Hetalia but it's just me ignoring Himaryu
by in.the.pursuit.of.snark
Summary: A series of Hetalia stories with more of a historical lense and completely disregarding Hima because I'm not sure if he's ever read a history book. A rewrite of an old fic. ((In which China shows up in like every chapter because the bastard really likes the spotlight, minor characters pop up because Hima spent entire episodes about Sealand instead of bothering to have a Mexico))
1. Damnation, Death, and Dreams

**001\. Introduction (** ** _In which India explains nations as oracles and has a encounter with a dreamy boy_** **)**

A clearly defined beginning and end was a rarity in the never ending river of time. Often, it was more like the infinite sand grains that the river brought and took. Each and every single one of them had an impact, but no one could truly say which was responsible when the rocks at the bottom of the bank became sand themselves.

It was the same case for India's start to the less than perfect relationship he had with China.

Nations have premonitions. They were vague, confusing, and rarely ever made sense. Sometimes they were significant, sometimes, less so. But they predicted the future, and that was valuable in the turbulent times of warring clans and unstable kingdoms. Usually, the dreamer in question had no idea what they meant, but a nation would be wise to not force a wrong interpretation. They could foretell innovations, important figures, deaths, and of course, future fellow nations.

It was a dream where India first saw China.

He slipped into oblivion. And suddenly, he saw past the rivers that fed him and his people, saw past the brilliant, heavenbound mountains of the east, saw past the lush mountains and jungles beyond, and he saw a river. It was not any river he had ever seen. And then he saw him.

He saw a child. He didn't know who at the time, but thousands of years later, another lifetime away, he would.

The child was short, and had skin paler then he had ever seen on a person, and dirty, scruffy robes. There was also the fact that he was covered head to toe with blood, as he gripped a spear red as he was.

But what was most striking about him was his _eyes_. They were cloaked with shadow, and his brows pushed downwards. Blood dripped from his temples into the corners of his eyes, but instead wincing, like India imagined he would have, he just narrowed his dark, wrathful pupils.

He was so, so different from anything India had ever known, yet he felt remarkably, incredibly, terribly _familiar_.

 **002\. Love (** ** _In which we ask the eternal question— What is love? Or at least, what it is to nations)_**

To invite love was… complicated, from a nation's perspective.

Falling in love with a human was unwise. It was never a pleasant feeling to watch a lover grow closer and closer to death as you stood, unchanging and constant.

Of course, that didn't mean nations didn't do it. Some part of a nation would always be tied to the human realm and being somewhat human meant that you naturally wanted to be around others of your kind. It may end well, or it may end poorly, but no matter what, it always _ends_.

Falling in love with a nation… was and always is risky. At best, it's two long time allies confirming their relationship. At worst, it's a pair of nations with rapidly deteriorating international relations but remnants of affection, _human_ affection, for each other, keeping them in this marriage of inconvenience.

It's a bit like gambling. With a nation, you could expect a longer relationship than with any human. However, you never knew when politics could take a nosedive and you would meet your lover not in the bedroom, but in the battlefield.

In the end, humans lived to love, to laugh, to help, to serve, and to lead. Nations lived for an idea birthed from the minds of people and not much else. Nations don't keep their chins up because of the promise of more time with your beloved (or, at least, shouldn't). They keep going for _the survival of the idea_ , for it to make it to tomorrow, next month, next year, as _long as possible_.

 **003\. Forgotten (** ** _In which Uganda and Kenya lament attention-spans)_**

Admittedly, it was kind of sucky being a minor nation. Uganda was no small player on Africa's field, but that didn't diminish his inconsequentiality on the world stage.

Before the age of knowledge and global navigation, nations only had to know their neighbors' names because they were the only ones that mattered. A few exotic countries were tossed in there, but those were fuzzy, inaccurate, or completely false. But nowadays, everyone's supposed to know everybody else, even if that means 200+ names.

...That's how it's supposed to go in theory. It surprisingly remained largely the same for the little guys. For insignificant nations, it broke down to this: Know the big guys (Ex: America, Russia), know the important guys in your part of the map, know your neighbors, and fuck all else.

Uganda couldn't argue with this line of thinking, especially when he followed that philosophy himself. Still, he found it endlessly frustrating when he had to introduce himself again and again to nations he's pretty sure he's had to do this to before.

As he finished declaring himself as the representation of the Republic of Uganda to some obscure Central Asian "-stan" nation, he had to excuse himself to go to a quieter corner of the World Meeting Room.

"Enjoying meet and greet?" Kenya cheerfully called out to Uganda as she strode towards him.

Uganda dropped his weak smile and pinched his nose bridge. "Definitely. Except that this is probably around the 40th one I've attended and some of the 'meeters' today have been attending these meetings a lot longer than I have."

"Don't be so harsh." Kenya pointed to the back of the earlier Central Asian nation. "I'm pretty sure that one doesn't show up a lot."

"I saw you earlier with her and she got your name right."

"I know! Finally the reputation and fame I crave!" Kenya hopped a little in delight. "Just one step closer to my dreams of being relevant."

"You should be more grateful." Uganda couldn't help but frown morosely. "You get a shred more respect than I do."

Kenya shot back a grin. "I am. But, you know, I'm pretty sure that that's only the case because of America's old boss a while back." She chuckled.

Uganda had to agree with her on this point. "The most relevant our names usually become globally is when they're pieces of trivia for the stars." He sighed.

He saw a flash of bitterness and contempt on Kenya's face flicker before quickly disappearing.

"You and I both know that too well."

 **004\. Dark (** ** _In which the mental health of nations is expounded_** **)**

There is a disease that plagues all the nations.

It's an omnipotent beast that takes many forms, from protecting national sovereignty to helping fellow allies to carrying out the will of God. It has no physical form, and its symptoms include expansion in territory, growth in influence, and rise in status.

One may think that the disease is more blessing than curse. In reality, it is more like a test. A test of what one is willing to do to feed the beast.

Are you willing to kill millions? Are you willing to systematically eradicate any opposition? Are you willing to force entire peoples into oppression? Are you willing to sacrifice the blood of your sons and the bodies of your daughters?

Few have gotten the chance to decide, to have gone far enough for the disease to offer the choice.

Most said yes.

 **005\. Faith (I** ** _n which Cuba thinks about matters of the afterlife_** **)**

As far Cuba was concerned, there was no Heaven.

Communism allowed no religion (not that that had affected anything, really), and despite the fact that the majority of his people were Catholic, he never professed to have any belief. Even in childhood, much was blind following and little was genuine worship of the God Spain preached to him about.

To him, faith would always be the tool Spain used to repress his dissent and force out his obedience. If a man as horrifying and despicable as Spain believed that he would go to such a Heaven after death, then that was no Heaven. It was Hell.

No amount of priests or promises of salvation in "the next world" could ever change that.

* * *

 **One \- India's prbly a few decades old here and very confused about where the Indus River Civilization skeddadled to and China's prbly running around murdering his Yellow River siblings to survive.**

 **Three \- When I'm talking abt America's old boss, i refer towards the fact that Barack Obama is half Kenyan.**

 **Five \- Cuba popped into existence just as Spain was finishing up murdering all the Caribbean Indians with guns and germs. Spain prbly then turned to Cuba and said, "Would you like to hear about our Lord and Savior- actually nvm, u kinda have to" and then shoved the holy book his throat. You know, nations being parents is actually never a good idea**

 **You will notice that many of subheadings are puns. Thanks for reading this v personal and honestly a bit self indulgent fic, hope u stick around for next time**


	2. Spirits, Seagulls, and Senility

**006\. Seeing Red (** ** _In which South Korea finds that his floors need cleaning_** **)**

Blood seems to be a recurring motif. For one, blood was what ran in the river, it was what millions of Koreans bled each day under Japan, and it was what Japan himself was hacking up right now. Pleasant day.

South Korea took a step back from the stains all over the wooden floor. It didn't matter, especially considering how he was already grimy and filthy. But South Korea didn't want any trace of his tyrant on him.

Even so, the sight of said tyrant ruining the shiny wooden floor with his insides was a little disturbing.

South Korea couldn't even laugh harshly like he had fantasized about constantly for the last few decades. Instead, he could only blankly look down at the former 'great' empire, trying to even his breath. He slowly turned to glance at his twin.

At least one of them, still had the capacity to express their shared feelings of disgust and grim triumph. North sneered at the mess on the ground, despite he himself not looking much better.

South thought back. In their youth, North had always been the timid one, shy and not terribly expressive. It took a lot to push him across the line to genuine hatred.

And Japan had shoved him over that line to off the cliff. North had become much more vocal and expressive than South had (and could) ever been about the detestation he had for the island nation. Even if it meant hours of torturous punishment, no one (much to South Korea's dismay and worry) could silence North.

That was just another reason on the mountain of hatred South kept inside of him.

"You've fallen from your gods' favor, I suppose. Where are your fellow Axis members?" North gave pause, with an almost sadistic smile.

"Shut it you savages. You degenerates are all the same, staring at me like fish staring into nothing!" Japan was obviously in a lot a pain as he hissed out these words. Still so, so proud, even in obvious defeat. "Leave me to be before I chop off your limbs again!"

Japan's face had always been emotionlessly haughty and contemptful, but it was melting into a grotesque amalgamation of fury and vehemence before them. It was ugly, no doubt about it, but South couldn't lie. He enjoyed seeing the exterior of the man finally matching his interior: heinous, vile, and filthy.

North leaned in close to the face of the shorter man. "I hope when your American devils come to you, they kill you before you can kill yourself, you disgrace of a nation."

A deafening slap echoed through the room.

North's nose was bleeding profusely but other than quick swipe of his had, he paid no heed to his injury. This was far from the worst thing he'd suffered.

"Your empire's 'light' will be nothing but a stain on our history." He spat out. "I will never let you rest easy, even in death."

He gave Japan a final look, before he grabbed South's hand and strode off, away from the monster that had made their lives hell.

 **007\. Health and Healing (I** ** _n which Seychelles ends up knowing more about than anyone_** **)**

"Why don't you smile often?"

Cameroon looked up, a surprised expression on his typically stoic face. "What do you mean?" He frowned, only proving Seychelles's point further.

Seychelles huffed a little bit, looking accidentally adorable. "Don't give me that. I may be young compared to you, but I'm not stupid. Tell me, why do you never smile?"

Cameroon had to take a moment to mull the question over. She had a point. He distinctly remembered several nations being shocked when he first smiled around them.

It wasn't that he didn't like smiling, it was just that... well, there wasn't very much to smile about. He was lucky, of course. He wasn't embroiled in a civil war, suffering from an epidemic, etc. But he had his own issues as well, corruption, terrorists, and AIDS.

He inhaled.

"Seychelles... to be honest, I don't know if I can or even should smile. You know that I have many problems. But you're an island nation, you don't have to worry about attacks or clashes because everyone will leave you alone. That isn't the same for me." His eyes dimmed a little bit as he remembered.

"I'm not sure if I can smile without my nagging worries and guilt when there's so much that I have to figure out. Maybe I can finally rest and grin easily when you and I live in the better tomorrow."

"Whenever that'll be." He leaned back and couldn't help a scowl. "I don't deserve to grin easy when people are suffering and I can't do enough about it."

She blinked at him, then shook her head.

She pinched the edges of his mouth with her petite fingers and lifted the edges into an odd looking smile.

"...You dumb old lion. I've had my fair share of wars too. But I think smiling in the darkest of times is when you need it the most. Don't wait for tomorrow. Enjoy your happiness before it's gone, you know."

And Cameroon couldn't help gently smiling because he knew she was right in the end.

 **008\. A Moment in Time (** ** _In which the perfect thing to say was said a little too late_** **)**

It was nice night, Bangladesh decided. One of the best things about world meetings was the scenic locales they often took place at. No one could deny the beauty of the city currently hosting the conference.

No one could deny the spasming of Bangladesh's muscles when hotel roommate, India, violently kicked off his blanket, sat up, and screamed, "Oh yeah!? If you're so busy getting laid maybe you should stop touching yourself every night then!" either. India blinked before squinting at Bangladesh.

"What was that all about?!" Bangladesh managed to screech to him.

India blinked again, before he looked around, and then proceeded to slap his forehead loudly.

"I just came up with the perfect comeback."

Bangladesh raised an eyebrow.

"To someone who's been dead for millennia."

Bangladesh sighed irritably. "I think you're going senile, old man."

 **009\. Innocence (** ** _In which a girl talks to a seagull_** **)**

"Hey Seychelles!" The seagull waved a wing at the skipping human. "How was your trip to the mainland?"

"Hey there!" She hugged her animal companion tightly. "It was fantastic! Besides the whole tourism promotion thing, I got to hang out with everybody! That was the best part."

She took a seat next to the avian, swinging her feet back and forth.

"I ran with Kenya, cooked with Uganda, read with Cameroon, and lots more! I always love visiting them." She sighed contentedly. "It seemed like they all really needed a break from their work and I was just what the doctor ordered!"

"That's only because you have barely any work compared to theirs." The seagull pecked at her elbow and Seychelles sheepishly flicked the bird's beak away.

"Mmmm… They really do see you as family, huh?" Seychelles nodded happily, and the bird rubbed its head on her hand.

"But I wonder…" The seagull trailed off. "Do they only treat you so warmly because they don't even see you as a nation?"

Seychelles' bright smile dropped off immediately, and it was like the sun had disappeared from the sky.

"O-oh! Sorry, was that rude?" The seagull nervously flapped its wings.

"No, no, you got a point." Seychelles's eyes trailed down to the ground as she traced circles in the sand. "You do, after all, represent my thoughts and doubts. It is what you're supposed to do."

She took a breath in, looking gloomy. "I… know that the main reason so many countries treat me like a little sibling is because of my 'innocence.' Or rather, my weakness."

Her eyes lost any remaining light at this.

"They know I pose little threat. I hate that fact quite a bit." She chuckled at this, sounding a bit bitter, "Of course I want to be treated as an equal. Yet at the same time…"

She closed her eyes as she mournfully smiled. "They see me as someone who has no self interest. To them, I am the closest they can get to real, unconditional human love. For that, I am glad that I can be just a little sister to them. Because I know that so many of us wish only for the mundane things in human lives. I am glad that I can at least give them this simple act of love and be reciprocated. Even if I wish I was more, the least I can do is give thanks for what I can do now."

The seagull stared. "That was deep."

A tiny grin appeared on Seychelles's face. "Thanks, I like to think that I get it from Ethiopia."

 **010\. Future (** ** _In which a street urchin finds out what's in store for him_** **)**

Israel was born from the crowded streets and alleys of early 20th century Jerusalem. He was little more than a particularly aggressive street child. Nobody knew how he got here, who got him here, and how long he had been there, but that didn't matter. What did matter was his strange aptitude for the happenings of Israel, his unusual strength, his eternally youthful looks as those around him changed.

Judaism didn't believe in evil spirits, but he was quite sure several rabbis he met were willing to make an exception for him.

By the time he met another nation besides him, he was quite used to people poking at him and declaring him deviant. So when England and Palestine did pretty much that, he did what life had trained him to do. He turned, and ran the fuck away.

England behaved like most who found themselves eating his dust. He swore angrily, shaking his fist. What he did do that was out of place for most of Israel's pursuers was catch up to him.

He grabbed him by the collar, holding the furious child, who was trying to spit on him. Palestine, ironically, played the gentle parent, speaking to him in soft words. They were confused by his aura, one that only nations possessed, and brought him into a house with more luxury and comfort than Israel had ever seen.

Palestine loved kids. He started to stroke Israel's hair, before stopping, realizing his mistake. "O-oh, sorry, it's a habit, I'll stop that-"

"No. Keep doing it." Israel petulantly leaned his head back on Palestine's chest, as timid fingers began combing through his messy locks again. As much as Israel wanted out of the strange house and back to the outside, he couldn't deny that the sensation was nice.

England was pacing, murmuring about auras and whatnot. As much as Palestine didn't want to agree with the frighteningly thick-browed man, he too felt an unusual air around these two men. Something akin to kinship, but also hesitation. Potential.

But as England told Palestine that the child was possibly the personification of the Jewish settlers, Israel couldn't help but become uneasy at how the nation's face twisted and contorted.

But it faded and the country swallowed something in his throat, looking in pain. He continued moving his hand across Israel's knotted hair and quietly murmured, "In another life, we could have been friends, family. If that is his true identity, then this child and I are doomed to be enemies for eternity."

* * *

 **Six: I am referring towards the Japanese Occupation of Korea, quite possibly one of the most brutal and oppressive periods in Korea. Not only was there use of Korean women as sex slaves for the Japanese soldiers, executions and kidnappings of the Korean people were common. They also banned the Korean language and forced many Koreans to take on japanese names. In the date of here, the atomic bombs had not yet dropped, but victory in Europe was already achieved. Japan is pretty roughed up here, thanks to malnutrition and the fire bombings of Japan.**

 **Nine: Seychelles relatively young compared to her East African and French African siblings. Most of them were just representations of local groups or city states until they suddenly got catapulted into representing the colony. Seychelles didn't even exist until France decided to take up shop in the islands. There's also the fact that she is relatively stunted in physical growth due to lack of political or economic power.**

 **I headcanon that the animal companions nations tend to keep around them are just physical manifestations of their thoughts, etc, since being a nation could be very discordant and chaotic at times, with all those people rattling about in your head.**

 **Ten: This is how Israel was discovered as a nation. Before the whole thing, Arthur tells Palestine that with all the Jewish patriotism and settlements, some baby nation is bound to pop up, representing the rebirthed Israel. Palestine doesn't really find this assuring, considering how some Zionist leaders could be very... impolite about the fate of Palestinian Arabs under the state of Israel. (Read: Assimilation and absorption in Jewish culture) Anyway, sometime later, Arthur decides to go walking with Palestine around Jerusalem so he could scope out the area before he took it from the Ottomans and somehow they end up finding the new baby nation. I think this takes place a wee bit after the Second Aliyah, or the second mass migration of Jews, like 1904 ish. Oh yea, it is true abt the Judaism and evil spirits. While there have been Jews who believed in evil spirits, this belief tends to be very peripheral.**

 **I think "frighteningly thick browed" is the most accurate thing I have written about Arthur, the nation of England**


	3. Combs, Curses, and Crying

**011\. Vacation (** ** _In which a familiar scene is played out again_ ****)**

"Am I Shiite or Sunni? God, I don't even know..."

America scratched his head. This seemed very familiar. "Iraq, I think you need a vacation. You're not even drunk and you're already chattering gibberish!"

The said Iraq looked up from his water and glared at the American.

 **012\. Hold My Hand (** ** _In which Egypt expresses some opinions, some welcomed, others, not so much_** **)**

"Is 'go fuck yourself' a mood, because that's what I am always feeling."

Egypt was rolling his eyes so far back that Sudan was beginning to be concerned that they'd be stuck that way.

Egypt was drinking. A rare sight to behold. Even if Egypt was never the most faithful Muslim, he avoided such intoxication like the devil himself. Sudan took a sip of his water.

Contrary to popular belief, Egypt can actually be quite talkative. It was a matter how much emotion he showed during conversation. He could be confessing that he just killed an entire family and was drying them into jerky and he wouldn't blink.

All of that went out the window when alcohol was added to the situation.

"I cannot believe that imperial penis head still has the gall in him to think that he can do whatever he wants. Arthur, you are rebuilding, for goodness, you would not want to accidentally break your hip before you take back the Suez. Francis, that applies to you too."

He took a hard inhale on his cigarette. "I have already told them that monetary compensation will be provided to them, for Allah's sake. Yet they still think their entire commercial stake in the Middle East is at threat." He glared as his cigarette like it was personally responsible for the crisis going around. "Allah, please deliver me to my mother already, I do not know how much their bullshit I can swallow anymore."

Egypt looked angry, volatile, frustrated, but above all, tired. The bruised circles under his eyes looked even more prominent under the hazy lights of the cheap bar.

Sudan looked at his distorted reflection in the water. He didn't look much better. The hurried and rushed independences had taken their toll on them both, but the Suez debacle was exacting special revenge in Egypt's complexion.

"I am just so… so... furious." He gritted his teeth. "Nothing will get those stupid Westerners' heads out of their asses and get them to acknowledge me as functioning sovereign nation."

"I can't deny you there." Sudan scowled, recalling the condescending tones and looks down noses.

Egypt nodded sluggishly. He took another shot glass (wow, Sudan didn't he had ever seen anyone drink as much as Egypt had in the last hour), before blinking at Sudan, probably on the verge of an alcoholic coma.

His eyes became half-lidded and his fingers entwined with Sudan's. Sudan resisted the urge to pull away.

"It was not too long ago when I was discussing the possibility of Arthur getting out of my country, and I was quite eager for the possibility that you and I would be one country. But, your nationalists were… passionate and you were a little unstable, so Arthur refused." Egypt sighed, and stared blankly into the cigarette.

"You know, your mother and mine were one long ago, and in some places, some times, it remained that way." He gazed into Sudan's eyes and Sudan had to try not to cringe. "We were together under the Ottoman bastard's rule and the English bastard's tyranny and we could've stayed together like that. We could continue that..."

Sudan slowly pulled his hand away, doing everything in his power not to roll his eyes so far back that they popped out.

"I distinctly recall your mother and mine not always getting along together." Kush more often than not didn't take kindly to her neighbors. "And um, last time I checked, I'm an independent state with a government who wants to stay un-united, and Samir already hates me enough, and I doubt he'll like you."

Egypt snorted, before throwing another shot back. "Fair enough. Given enough time, you will see that union is the best choice."

Sudan gave in and rolled his eyes discreetly. South would cackle at the irony of his brother's situation.

Egypt then started giggling.

"Ah, I can only enjoy how fucked they're going to get on the global stage after being fucked by my army." Egypt laughed, almost hysterically. "Ivan has already threatened with missiles and Alfred is no doubt pissed at being held out of this little team effort during negotiations."

Egypt slumped down, knocking his head on Sudan's shoulder before resting it there. Sudan decided that while he did not like the invasion of personal space, he didn't really have the energy to move it.

 **013.** **Death (** ** _In which the gods have failed_** **)**

"Regardless of how much blood we lose out there, Huitzilopochtli has weakened. Coyolxauhqui and her brothers are descending upon us." Azteca didn't blink. She stared at where Spain had entered her city, the grandiose streets of Tenochtitlan. It was only years ago, but felt like eons, an entirely different time.

"We will be devoured with Coatlicue."

 **014\. Acceptance (** ** _In which China's hobbies are divulged_** **)**

"If you shall pretend that you love me, I shall too, and we can live in this false paradise together."

Vietnam couldn't help but sneer to herself about the fragility, the self-consciousness, that seemed to drip from China's words. But, as she mulled over the more, she came to some ideas she may have not otherwise come to.

One. She was talking to this enormously successful devourer of nations. He didn't need her to pretend that she actually liked him. He could turn her into meat paper, for all he wanted to do. After all, he was conqueror, and she was the conquered. So why bother himself with these pretty words?

Two. It would do her and her people good to get on his pleasant side. He held a good amount of sway in administration. She was a survivor, just like him. To have made it this long, self preservation is your primary, often only, motivation. This brought her to her next issue, however.

Three. The blockade in her possible plan in two was this: Who is to say if he will let human emotion cloud his judgement and convince his rulers to treat his consort better? Will he be so swayed by such fleeting and ridiculous sentiments? Most likely not. Survival dictated all.

But for the next few months, where she was forcibly escorted by him all over his damned capital, she made a few observations to add to her base of knowledge.

The corners of his lips tugged downwards when he met with his ruler, despite what his otherwise cordial tone said. He would obediently nod and mutter monosyllabic responses, but she had to suppress a laugh at how quickly his head whipped away from the Emperor himself to hungrily stare at today's lunch. Needless to say, he loved eating, probably too much for his own good.

He was ridiculously vain about his hair at times. He nagged her for how poorly she kept her own. She told him to stick his jade comb up his ass.

He insisted on arranging his house in preposterous ways. "For good energy," he claimed, as he scoffed at a nearby house for their "haphazard" placement of the decorative rocks. To her, every rock looked haphazardly placed.

He loved children, and would stop anytime to have a chat or a game. He'd even give up a bit of his favorite foods, although she could see the comically sad longing look in his eyes.

He also liked flowers, and for a moment, when she saw him cradle the bud of a lotus, she saw a melancholy glimmer in his eyes, and an almost gentle, thoughtful sorrow.

It was the weariness, the weight of decades, centuries, millennia.

She knew it all too well.

But it too disappeared just as quickly as it came, and he returned the bud to the waters, to again complain at her.

Oh, how day could be so bright, yet night so, so dark.

And it was so that one dawn, she woke up early. Early enough where even the sun had yet to rise. She wandered all over the ornate palace, retracing past memories of banter and walks, and somehow, she found herself in his room. She didn't stop at the doorway. She strode past to his bed, where he was still sleeping, the hypocrite.

She recalled him jabbing in her bruised ribs the morning he told her they were travelling to his capital for proper "re-education." And she had been the one coughing up blood and phlegm.

The gravest injury he had was some drool finding its way onto his pillow, she bitterly thought.

She sat down on the other side of the bed. She sighed, and took his face in her hands. She couldn't help but hold him with a tenderness that surprised herself. His eyes were closed, more peaceful than any conscious version of him had ever been.

She brushed her hand across the dry cheek.

For someone as old as her, she refused to give him false love. They had only truly acquainted themselves over a series of months, a fleeting second in her eyes. And their knowledge of each other only went back a few decades of military engagements, stained blades, and spat out words of hate.

It would take much longer for an old woman like herself to even pretend she loved him.

But, she could pretend that she enjoyed his presence. That would be enough, right?

She ignored the parts of her that scoffed at "pretending to enjoy."

 **015\. Running Away (** ** _In which Ivan has to wake up early_** **)**

It was a foggy evening. It was dark, but there was just enough dim moonlight for Ivan to keep on walking on the dirt road. He felt tired from crying. His eyes were rubbed raw. He had a sinking feeling that perhaps the decision to walk his way to Kiev as the cold of winter settled in his fingers was not very wise. But it was too late. Desperation and pride had buried any chances of turning back.

Why did they have to leave Kiev? He loved the grand and numerous churches, the golden domes, the shining white walls, the proud and unwavering magnificence of his sister's city. But a month ago, she had violently escorted him away from the city. She refused to tell him why as she jerked him out of sleep and out his warm bed. She only brusquely told him to get his ass on the horse or so help her, Our Good Lord above.

She then proceeded to ride their poor horse Dmytr night and day to a no name village leagues away from Kiev. Sleep was hard to find.

But when she forced him out and shoved him to an elderly woman, sleep deprivation didn't matter. She screamed at him to let go of the horse, brat, and that he couldn't come with her; the surprisingly strong crone grabbed his middle and forcefully removed him from the horse. As he bawled, she only tossed back her head and yelled out that she would return, maybe, as she rode into the sun.

Those days where her fate was a mystery were quite possibly some of the worst days he experienced. He had nightmares of her disappearing into the blizzard or falling off of interminable cliffs, consumed by an evil monster, or captured by one of his less kind siblings. The women of the village tutted, and fussed over his youthful face, pleading him to eat, for his sister would want him not to starve to a husk. She would come back, they consoled him. She would be back.

She did come back, but he wasn't sure if it was her.

She had angry, dark red, almost black, marks over half her body, her eyes were both covered with bandages, and there was so much blood. Her leg was mangled, and the shoddy dressings hastily wrapped around it only made it look worse if anything.

There was also the raw, scabbed line in the middle of her neck.

Men more bandage than flesh shuddered violently and rasped out, "Nomads." They whispered, "Beheadment." He had no idea what that meant, but it did not seem to be good.

They said his sister was tired, she needed to rest.

He thought to himself, rest would do little to help her.

It had been days since he ran out sobbing from his sister. She had yelled harsh, terrible things at him, things even now he could not bear to remember. He refused to listen, he couldn't, he couldn't, and he sprinted out of her room, the hut, the village.

She furiously shook her fist at him and tried to chase him, but she had to stop before she could even take five steps, violently hacking. And the few steps she did take were so pained, so arduous.

"Your sister is the strongest and most powerful, little one." Someone had said to him some time ago. "You should be even gladder that she is raising you."

His sister _was_ strong, he thought. It was all because they left Kiev that she was like this. He would go back to Kiev, he decided as he ran away from the pitiful place. He knew the way to Kiev better than he knew his own hand.

But, he was unfamiliar with the land around here. The journey probably took far longer than his sister's horse ride. He wandered about in circles, trying to retrace his steps and get back on the path.

His stomach growled. The last time he had eaten was days ago, when he was still back in the village. But he and his sister didn't need to eat, like the women told him he must. He tried to remember why. She had explained it to him once… A new gust of cold took away his line of thought, and he trembled.

It didn't matter. He could eat when he got to Kiev. And he would find their home. And then she could get the doctors and healers she needed, and he wouldn't have to stay in that shabby village, and they could live happily in their home, together, forever. Even as gentle flakes of snow began to drift down, he did not stop.

* * *

 **Eleven: Iraq is pretty split between Sunni and Shia Islam, causing him much trouble. Yes, this is a parody of the scene in which England is crying about whether or not he is a Catholic or protestant. I do however imagine that iraq at least tries to not drink, which is a lot more than I can say for... other muslim countries lol**

 **Twelve: This one is pretty history centric, and it's supposed to Sudan and Egypt enjoying a drink after Arthur and Francis started occupying the Suez Canal. For context, the Suez canal was p important because it was what allowed Europe to pass to the Middle Eastern Gulf and its oil through the red sea, as well as access to Asia (read: European Colonies in Asia). After a wave of Arab patriotism, Egypt nationalized the canal, read, said that the assets of the company running the canal would be given to Egyptians, not Europeans (shock). Fearing the economic cost (even though Egypt said he would pay them back) and the loss of such an important passage, they decided to set up shop there and demand that Egypt stay in his lane and let things be exactly like before. Unfortunately tho, Egypt totally wrecked them, as the two were still recovering frm the destruction of WWII. And Russia and America did get pretty pissed at the two imperialist codgers trying to assert their non existent power.**

 **Also Sudan was getting very unstable (Samir is the human name of South Sudan, who at this point did not like his northern neighbor at all)and Britain was like "Look, I just wanna leave, can u just give up ur claim to Sudan and I'll be on my way" Egypt didn't like this, many of his previous governments stated that they controlled both Egypt and Sudan, but then he realized that his independence would be much easier to gain if he just went along with Britain, so he gave up his 136 year union with Sudan begrudgingly. But old habits die hard,,,, lol**

 **Thirteen: According to one version of the Aztec Myth, Coatlicue, the earth mother, gave birth to one daughter Coyolxuahqui and 400 sons. Then one day she got magically impregnated by a ball of feathers, gave birth to Xotol and Quetzalcoatl. Coyolxuahqui got mad at her mom for her new siblings, so she and her brothers cut off dear mom's head. Mom then grew back her head in the form of two giant snakes, and she magically spawns another son, Huitzilopochtli. He immediately got to work by cutting off Coyolxuahqui's head, throwing it into the sky, and doing the same with the 400 brothers. This isn't the end though, Coyolxuahqui and company can still kill him, so the world is locked in an everlasting battle between Huitzilopochtli, the sun, and Coyolxuahqui and brothers, the moon and the stars. Huitzilopochtli keeps up his strength by mass blood sacrifice, but should he ever weaken, Coyolxuahqui will kill him and then go down to earth with her bros and kill Coatlicue, murdering everything in the process.**

 **Fourteen: this is supposed to refer towards the Qin conquering northern vietnam. Did you know that Feng Shui (practice of arranging ur house in certain ways for good luck) has been around for 4000+ years?**

 **Fifteen: Ukraine is supposed to represent the city of Kiev here and some her fellow Kievan Rus city mates are not very kind... but they're not the invaders this time, tho Kiev was already weakened by their invasions prior to this one. U prbly have an idea of who's responsible for her condition lol. Russia's prbly a wee babe here, nobody really knowing what the heck he's supposed to be. Ukraine just found him outside of Moscow but moscow was tiny as fuck and unimportant, so confused, Ukraine just takes him back home with her to raise him like a good Kievan boy**


	4. Rejection, Revenge, and Road Trips

**016\. Illusion (** **In which the protege takes the master's kingdom** **)**

He held his former mentor by the throat.

When he was young, he had always thought of his ruler's, or ' benevolent parent ', as China liked to put it, eyes as a cloak. They were impassive and serene, masking whatever he actually felt underneath the surface. But he remembered mild irritation, cold looks, and a dry humored crinkle in the edges of his eyes, a bittersweet upward curve of his lips.

The mask could not hide all, but it took a certain expertise to look for the tiny, miniscule signs.

However, the mask was no longer there to conceal his annoyance, his happiness, his sadness, anything.

There was only pure rage in his pupils. Nothing was covering it up.

It delighted Mongolia. He squeezed harder.

 **017\. Opportunities** **(In which Togo tries, and fails)**

Togo's wiry frame shivered as the rest of the members of the OAU walked ahead of her. She looked frazzled and her eyes only spoke of exhaustion. She was going to have to try with the most powerful one of them first. She tugged at Ethiopia's sleeve, coughing to alert the older nation of her presence.

She quietly said, "Please… please just consider my capital as the permanent headquarters for the Organization of African Unity. I've spent over half my national budget preparing a splendid palace for it, and if not, all of that would be to waste."

Ethiopia tossed back a disdainful look, an arc of his lips. Thousands and thousands of years in his life prepared him for this.

"Stay in your lane, bitch." He winked.

 **018\. Dead Wrong (** **In which Russia finds things have gotten out of… hand** **)**

The imposing walls of Kiev were in ruin. They had lost their shine, their luster, and they were crumbling before his eyes. The proud buildings were only shadows in the background. The massive gates of the city that protected its people were gone. There was some broken giant pieces of lumber that attested to their fate. But he pushed on.

The fog was so dense that he could barely see in front of him, only about the length from his shoulder to his elbow. He kept on walking.

If he took a right, and then moved further into the city, he and his sister's house should be just about…

There was still the distant light across the city. But as he squinted, he realized that it was the flames devouring what was left of a house, a church, a market. Everything was collapsed, and that was only what he could see, for the fog covered all else.

He stopped walking. No more than a few strides inside the city had it become too unsettling. The loud, bustling city he'd known and cherished greeted him with oppressive silence. Where was everyone, he murmured. Had they all been forced to leave like him?

Then he noticed.

The ground was far too irregular and far too smooth.

The ground poked out in some places, but other places were too soft.

He numbly thought that maybe he was stepping on some animal carcass. There were plenty butcher shops of scattered about the city.

He picked up a half broken lamp he accidentally kicked. It had the tiniest flame left.

It was only after he had managed to stop his shaking hands enough to hold the lamp and coax the flame, enough to illuminate what was in front of him. He immediately regretted his decision.

The ground was absolutely covered in bodies.

There were so many that not an inch of the dirt was left exposed. All of them bore signs of a violent end. One poor soul had his head separated from his body and his glassy eyes stared up to Ivan from the ground. He noticed that right next to the head, his boot was crushing a severed hand.

He screamed and fell to his knees. Skin met skin. He felt nauseous.

"So this is where everyone went," a small shred of him whispered.

He was right, in a way. They had all been forced to leave, like him. Only they had been forced to leave the mortal realm.

He tried to utter a prayer for them, but his hands were trembling so much that he couldn't even hold them together. It was no use. His lips quivered. They would have been useless for saying the words of God, anyway.

Any will or resistance sloughed itself out of him, and he suddenly felt incredibly weary. His body leaned forward by itself, and he had to rush to balance with his palms under his chest.

There was a tiny, tiny hole, where his small hand accidentally found way, that was not covered by bodies.

The dirt was was damp. Rain? Dew? He retrieved his hand from the carcass free hole and sniffed cautiously at the moistness.

It was blood. Earth had turned from dirt to mud not from raining, but from bleeding.

 **019\. Gateway (** **In which China makes a joke- several, in fact** **)**

"Are you going to abandon all of your duties and responsibilities as the representative of the well-spring of civilization, the most enlightened land, simply for this road trip to the Buddha's land?!" The trembling middle aged man screeched, not believing his own eyes.

"Yup." China tossed a nonchalant look back, waving his arm as a goodbye. "See you in a few years, boss."

Ignoring the outraged yells of the man, China began sprinting out of the palace. A nation was not meant to stay locked in a palace, and he represented a lone traveler as much as a king. Therefore, it was as much his duty to wander as much as it was to rule.

As soon as he could no longer hear the man's shrieks, he slowed his pace down.

It had been quite a while since he just visited a neighbor for fun, he mused to himself. Plenty of excursions for "trading" purposes, however.

He couldn't help but laugh at his usage of the word, "trading." No one brought thousand men strong armies and newly invented weapons for trading.

The nation looked up to the billowing sky. Would it even be the same when he reached his destination?

He paused before the city gates. He took his first step of the journey.

 **020\. Failure (In which a trend is set for all of fanfictiondom)**

"Your eyes must be golden, amber pits of despair, for I am lost in them."

As soon as Hellas could stop laughing her ass off, she told Rome that she was going to school him in the art of writing pretty words for his own good.

* * *

 **16: My headcanon is that China encountered the nation-tan that would become Mongolia before he got kicked out of the North by the Jurchen. China took him under his wing as another weird horse kid and thought little of him besides "gimme tributary, kid", and then he had to flee to the south from the Jurchen, which were more than happy to continue the long held tradition of bullying the nation tans running about in the steppes at the time.**  
 **17: This is actually a pretty humorous (?) story about the fervor that followed post independence Africa. In their elation, most of the independent nations set up the Organization of African Union, a proto African Union, but it was mostly an excuse for the enormously corrupt leaders to party with one another and compliment their yachts and stuff. Addis Abba, capital of Ethiopia, served as their headquarters, but the leader of Togo, in his desire to make his nation jump to a position of leadership, spent half of the national budget building a gigantic palace to convince them to move the headquarters to the capital of Togo, Lomé. They politely refused, and you can only imagine Ethiopia's smugness at Togo's despair, who was already fairly angry at her boss for blowing this much money on something this stupid**  
 **18: I'll show myself out for that sub title lol The amount of destruction and cruelty that was left behind by the invaders is historically accurate tho!**  
 **19: China thinks that all his troubles are gone with the reunification of the Three Kingdoms of China, and decides that he deserved a break. This is prbly after a bunch of South Asian buddhist monks make trips to China, and China decides to see what's up down there. 200-300 CE ish?**  
 **20: Hellas is Ancient Greece btw And this encounter is an example of a theme will show up quite often in Western History- Roman Pragmatism v. Hellenic Creative Flair lol**


	5. Compliance, Complications, and Cows

**021.** **No (In which Kenya spawns dust where there was none)**

Somalia opened his mouth. "I-"

Everyone turned away from him as Kenya quickly rushed in from the door, faster than any human limits, faster than anyone had ever seen her before. She skid to a stop in front, raising even a little dust in the air.

She gently laid a finger on his lips.

"Shut the fuck up."

 **022\. Tears (In which Ukraine, not yet Ukraine, ponders when death ought to show up for her)**

She was so tired all the time. It was a miracle when she managed to walk without falling back once per day.

She couldn't sleep. After the first initial coma, sleep had denied her anymore.

This stemmed from a variety of annoyances and factors. It was the awful itching sensation in her eyes as flesh rearranged itself, the sharp pains as bones moved back and forth in her neck, and her throbbing legs as muscles and tendons pulled themselves back.

Despite this painful "re-skinning," she was healing slower than she would have liked. Much slower. She brushed a finger against her neck, wincing as she touched the tender, red areas. That was going to permanently leave a scar. And then there was the nightmares.

Evil spirits must have taken quarter in her mind (she wouldn't be shocked) and in her dreams, she saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt like nothing.

But dread would consume her easy, and his face appeared. She was engulfed in fire, and he laughed, laughing at her piteous self, laughing at how far weak she had gotten. Then, she would wake up, screaming from the terror of her dreams.

It was to the point where she had insisted that her brother sleep elsewhere and not have to endure her sleepless nights.

Her brother was worried constantly, but apparently not so much that he could ignore her disfigurement. Did he even know that she saw him looking at her welts when he thought she wasn't looking herself?

He was only a child, she reminded herself. It was in their nature to be curious about the world; he harbors you no ill will .

But when she opened her eyes and saw how unscathed he was, how perfectly, totally unharmed he was compared to her sad, pitiful self, she felt anger, an irrational vexation rise in her. As his sister, she should have been glad that he was safe, she should have commended herself for saving him from the the utter desolation.

But why was it that he should be free from the horrors that she had gone through that night? He was a nation, but what did he even represent? What did bloodshed had he gone through to christen his title as country?

Her city, her very being, utterly razed to ground, she thought. She should be dead. Perhaps he was a successor to her. That particular thought made her wretchedly sad and angry, a terrible combination, especially in her state. I don't want to be replaced, she cried aloud in her head.

Her aggravation at the unfairness of it all caused her to do something atrocious.

She had yelled appalling things to him, things that made her sick with shame as soon as they left her mouth. He didn't deserve any of it, he was totally, completely innocent. She was being absolutely unreasonable, she knew it, but she couldn't control herself. It was no excuse, but she was too tired and too remorseful to think about it further.

Then the little brat ran out sobbing and wailing. She didn't blame him. If she was his age, and had just been told off like that, she too would have escaped the room, trying to hide falling tears.

That didn't stop her from going after him, though. She knew that she could barely hobble, much less run, but she paid it no heed, because she was tired. She was tired of being reminded that the proud city of Kiev was no more.

She was thusly reminded again when her legs refused to go any further and she collapsed on the cold ground. Thankfully, an old crone had the mind to rush over and help her back into the hut, but what she needed was someone to quell her tumultuous and disarrayed psyche.

She did not notice the sun as it went up and down as long as Ivan was away. She only repeated her words day and night. She had run herself into a permanent groove of regretting and repressing. She knew she was driving herself down to Hell. And there was nothing to stop her. Not even herself.

She numbly knew that if she managed to survive this, then her mind would most definitely mend itself back together, sometime, somehow. Sleeping until then sounded like a very good idea…

But Ivan. Despite her reservations about how his fate was tied into hers, at the most human level, she was his sister. Even if he was her replacement, she would make sure he wouldn't die some foolish death young. After all, her name was to be associated with him.

It was with grim acceptance that she faced each morning, ready for when her death would be the birth of Ivan.

Novgorod would have chuckled at this, she vaguely thought. He always said I was ready to pummel Death itself when it came to call me.

Death did not come to her, but rather, it was Ivan.

The poor thing had ran all the way from the tiny village that had sheltered them and other survivors to Kiev. She had to surmise from his reaction when he returned. He was frozen, and his eyes were empty, glazed over. They reflected light, but not much of it, and not much else. He had had a few scratches, and his fingers were pink with frostbite, laced with delicate ice.

He had strode past all the villagers and soldiers, who were pressing him on where he had been, what took him so long, what was he thinking, his sister was worried sick, how could he?

He didn't answer any of them. He didn't stop for any of them.

He slammed on the door to her hut, and she exclaimed, "Ivan!" in relief and guilt.

But he didn't respond, and he simply collapsed onto her bed, laid his head on her, and sobbed.

"Ivan? What in the Lord Above is up with you?" She cried, as she patted his back gently.

"I... I went to Kiev…" he croaked, in between gasps and sobs. "And… and..."

She should have asked how he managed to trek all the way from here to there when it was in the middle of the damned winter. She should have asked how he got those injuries or how he even found his way there from here. But the second she heard 'Kiev,' she understood all.

She held him tighter, and wept with him.

 **023.** **My Inspiration (In which Hong Kong says bitch)**

Taiwan sipped up the last of her boba tea and wiped at her mouth. "Did I tell you about an admirer I once had?"

Hong Kong raised a bushy eyebrow. Taiwan was always open and friendly, but it was a rare opportunity when she chose to divulge in the past. He didn't blame her, having lived through some of it himself. But he didn't recall her ever mentioning an "admirer," not ever in a positive manner.

"No, actually." Curiosity led him to set his cup on the table and cock his head to the side.

Taiwan smiled, and leaned her cheek against her right hand, staring. Hong Kong knew that she was not looking at him, but at someone who was no longer there.

"She was merely a office secretary for the government, but I think that in another life, she would have been a poet. She was lovely, though she didn't believe it. But she thought I was beyond lovely, beyond mere adjectives."

"Did she know what... who you were?" He questioned.

"No, not ever. I was only ever the young lady who climbed to an unbelievable position to her."

She sighed.

"I am grateful I did not tell her."

She continued, "She never thought she could completely transcribe my 'beauty' down. But, she tried. She once put it like this, for me."

She exhaled. "I was a glass maiden, she insisted."

Hong Kong snorted. "Can't see it."

Taiwan leaned forward and punched his arm. "Rude. Though, I have to agree."

She sat back down in her seat. "When she told me that, I didn't like it much. Glass was too fragile and too delicate. Perhaps a maiden of iron?"

"But she refused, saying that iron was too ugly and crude for me. It was what feasted on armies of men marching to their doom, and did not befit my subtlety, my touch of cunning."

She took a long sip, and Hong Kong swore he could have seen a slight blush underneath her locks.

"I replied to her that iron was perfect for me then, plain and ugly. I knew that she strongly disagreed just by her expression." She chuckled, looking down at her hair as she played with it, loosely braiding it.

"And to my surprise, she continued, even though her own voice had begun to shrink and tremble. She had always been so timid."

"She said, you fail to see how strong glass was. Even when broken, it's shards and fragments remain dangerous, a threat even when pushed to the limit."

"And there was one more thing she said. Glass took white, empty light, and it turned it into hues and rainbows, and beautiful, dancing spectrums. Which was how I made her feel."

There was a pause.

"You remember her words incredibly well, heh."

"I do. I asked her to write them down, and I've never quite been able to stop reading them, even after she left."

Hong Kong didn't speak immediately. "What happened to her?"

"Well, she eventually got a better position with a tech company. It was well timed, for if she had been with me any longer, she might have picked up on my... unusual aging."

Taiwan twisted her straw a little bit. "That does not mean I did not grieve."

"It was many, many years later when I showed up at her funeral." She chuckled grimly. "Her granddaughter was a mirror of her in youth."

She fiddled with the napkin on the cheap plastic table.

They were left in an awkward silence and a heavy mood hanging over.

It was much less lighter hearted than their usual chats, which were snarking at China and internet memes.

Hong Kong uncomfortably shifted in his seat. This was too much emotional vulnerability for him.

Time to change topics before things took an even more awkward and/or emotional turn.

Hong Kong loudly sipped his drink again, having forgotten that its existence during the dialogue, and smirked. "Well, my reply is that I can confirm from personal experience that even when you break glass, it'll still hurt you like a son of bitch."

Taiwan wrinkled her nose and flicked him on the hand. "Thanks for ruining the mood." Though, he still saw her smiling a bit as she pretended to ignore him.

 **024\. Exploration (In which China speaks at length about how hot someone is)**

The journey took fucking forever.

Turns out that his "trading partners" were not exactly fond of their old enemy suddenly showing up on their territory, and China barely managed to escape capture. Or, at least, long term captivity.

China wondered if this strange "Buddha" was the one responsible for allowing him to avoid excessive troubles. Granted, he would have liked it better if Buddha had helped him more and had him not encounter those barbarians in the first place. But a weary traveller like him without the safety of others had no place to be making demands at a deity.

By the time China had wrangled himself out of Central Asia and every enemy he had made out there, maybe around one or two years had passed? He had no damn idea.

Exhausted, he had made a stop at some small town. The inn he stayed at offered a "complimentary" tour, though it entailed him being dragged out of bed and into the town at a time he'd rather not. His tour included seeing the local cows wander around, smelling cow excrement, stepping in cow excrement, and being offered some suspiciously brown water. And they finally arrived at the village's temple, which was simple, but not bad either. He suspected the tour guide's build up to it was because they intended for him to cough up some coinage for the temple.

The interior of the temple was spacious, he thought. He couldn't really tell because there were so many people walking to and fro. He eyed the statues scattered around and the engravings in the walls. Perhaps if he had been in a more scholarly mood, he might have been inclined to sketch the scene out. However, cow poop is not conducive to one's creative faculties.

That was when he stopped in his tracks, instantly forgetting sketches and cow poop. He felt something off. It was an uncomfortable feeling, his neck sprouting bumps and the tension in him shooting through the roof. It was a feeling he had felt before. The presence of a fellow nation.

But, it was different. The aura he usually got from other nations usually didn't feel like this. It was usually a sense of familiarity, yet strangeness, and some other muted emotions. But this was… a deviation. There was too strong a feeling of wariness, caution.

This was no mere nation. It was a rival .

He excused himself from the tour guide, ignoring the man's insistence, trying as best as he could to exit the situation smoothly. As he left the guide, he raked his eyes over the crowd of people gathering in the temple. Who was it? Why would a nation be at a tiny local temple like this? Would a town this small even have a personification? He rushed outside and scanned across the lines of people entering, trying to quickly pick up anything unusual.

And then, he saw a particularly crowded knot of humans, and drew closer to it.

In the the center of it all was a very beautiful nation.

His shoulders were broad, but not brutishly so. His eyes were a rich, vibrant orange-brown, and it complemented his easy smiles and charming remarks.

His figure was as if water had rushed over stone for years, smoothing out every defect and error there was. Years of careful craftsmanship culminating with the man in front of him, who stood tall, proud, regal. An equal in many respects.

China had met many stunning and exquisite individuals before, and seduction was not necessarily something he struggled with. But as he watched the man almost glide as he walked with fellow followers, he had to concede.

This was the most hesitance he had ever had when approaching someone of the more gorgeous caliber.

And then he was caught staring.

 **025.** **Complicated (In which Turkey puzzles how such a woman could be so many things)**

She was the gentle, yet firm sister, but she was also the bringer of chaos.

Her eyes were visions of the past, but she would be the change that spelled the end of you.

She was brutal, as she single handedly carved a bloody canyon through his men, but as you see her bite her lip against her brother, who was so, so arrogant, you could not imagine the patience it took.

She yanked your hair down to press you against her lips, and you felt the butterflies in your stomach turn to lightning bolts.

You heard a sigh from her, one of sadness, happiness, hunger, satisfaction, confusion, experience, everything.

If you could even come close to understanding how such a woman could be so full of failures, successes, marvels, mundanities, impossibilities, perhaps all the scholars in the world would not be as wise as you.

* * *

 **21: Kenya in general doesn't like Somalia all that much thanks to Somali terrorist attacks, which admittedly, Somalia really doesn't have any control over himself. There's a very long history of the Kenyan government being real dicks to Somalis in Kenya. A lot of this stems from the fact that Britain said "heyo imma let all of British Somaliland be one thing", Kenya hopped on to rule a good chunk of what is today Somalia, and was very unwilling to let that part go back to Somalia. There's also been a lot of skirmishes between their peoples on the border.**  
 **22: Kiev wasn't doing so well after the whole matter, and wouldn't recover for a long while. YEAH IT WAS THE MONGOLS WHO RANSACKED HER IF YOU HADNT ALREADY FIGURED IT OUT (Ukraine uses Ivan here because at this point it wasn't clear what he represented, i will use human names in places where humans can possibly hear the convo, but otherwise i tend to stick to nation names for convenience) Novgorod is a fellow Kievan Rus city state who hit the jackpot on selling furs and only acts vaguely familial with Russia and Ukraine whenever it suits him. He belongs to yelyzavetaart on tumblr!**  
 **23: This prolly takes place present day and Taiwan's admirer lived back in the 1950s. Taiwan and HK r really good friends and stuff but a lot of their history is p traumatic, and while HK and Taiwan love causally complaining, they both tend to repress the past unless like casually or smth. This is also meant to be a slight allusion to the Taiwanese LGBT novel Crystal Boys, but now that im thinking abt it it's only if you squint a little.**  
 **24: Damn chin so thirsty ur only 2 thousand yrs old at this point**  
 **25: YEET Ukraine appears twice in a chapter! Finally im writing repeatedly abt a character that's not India or China wow This is also supposed to mirror Suleiman the Magnificent and his famed wife, Roxelana, who was of Ukrainian origin.**  
 **oh my god i wrote so many more long writings in this one i just realized**


	6. Bewildered, Bizarre, and Burn

**026\. Troubling Thoughts (** **In which Egypt suffers greatly** **)**

"Hassan."

He turned away from the window view to face his southern counterpart. Sudan appeared to be in good spirits, with a lazy smile and mischievous eyes. He was obviously feeling prideful about hosting about the triennial Islamic Council Summit.

"Ah, Tamir. Peace be upon you." He shook hands with him. "It is good to see you so well."

Sudan nodded back to him. "Indeed it is. It'll be quite… interesting to see our nations' pre-meeting gathering play out."

Egypt made a face of displeasure at this, brow ridge creasing.

"Ah, not looking forward to it?" Sudan teased, his grin arcing to one side.

"Please." Egypt scoffed. "I fail to see how anyone could look forward to the orgy of madness that it is. As are all nations' pre-meetings, for that matter."

"Aw, really?" Sudan smirked. "I can't help but enjoy seeing how the cards fall down."

"Perhaps, you might. But I have been dealing with these 'nations' gatherings' much longer than you have, and I must say: nothing has changed."

"Obviously." Sudan laughed.

Egypt continued. "It's quite absurd how a gathering of representatives that are representing over a billion people can get so wild. Last year, do you recall Chad selling hashish to everyone and how the entire room reeked?"

"Well, you know Chad. He has to make his living whenever he can." Sudan shrugged.

His partner sighed. "I suppose." He then frowned. "I just cannot understand how others can lose themselves so easily in drink or other such goods. Don't you remember what Algeria did after purchasing?"

Sudan shuddered against the mental image of the nation in question attempting to gyrate to the rhythm of a thumping song and nodded.

Egypt somberly nodded back and said, "You see? I seriously doubt that even I could become that ridiculous in intoxication."

Sudan looked at Egypt dubiously, raising both his eyebrows with enough doubt to be sliced clean through.

"What?" Egypt looked back defensively, slightly miffed at his peer's lack of faith.

Sudan snorted and said, "Don't you remember that time when you were quite drunk during the Suez Crisis and you were hitting on me to convince me that union was the best choice?" Sudan wryly grinned and Egypt felt a rush of heat in his face.

He remembered sluggish movements, cheap bar lights, sloppy anger, and… the warmth of another's body? An embarrassingly pathetic act of begging? That was enough.

"We should hurry to the others." He abruptly turned away from Sudan and began to rapidly walk away. He knew if he turned around right now he would be seeing Sudan with an even bigger shit eating grin.

It was absolutely impeccable fortune that Sudan kept his mouth shut as they walked into the main building. Egypt thanked his mother in the great beyond for such luck.

 **027\. Friendship (** **In which China finds himself the oddity of the week** **)**

The nation, probably himself aware of the presence of another, turned his head sharply to gaze directly at China. It took some nerve for China to not avert his eyes, instead choosing to stare directly back.

Apparently this had turned into a competition of sorts, as the stranger retaliated by striding towards him.

Let him come, he sniped, in his mind, bolstering himself up.

Of course, it would have been nice if he had been feeling as sure as he had when he found himself face to face with the man.

China suddenly realized that if he could see those eyes from a crowd away, then it would serve as no shock as how intense they were in front of his own. They didn't even bear any hint of anger or negative emotion in them, but their calm gaze was by no means welcoming.

There was a flicker of suspicion, of distrust, of wariness, but was it simply the dizzying closeness between their faces, or was that glimmer of faint recognition true?

But he couldn't tell, as it vanished without any trace, and the man cracked a smile at him. He laughed, and gestured with the crowd. He then proceeded to grab his shoulders and engage in a sort of one armed side hug, cheerfully chatting in that incomprehensible language all the same.

He was very confused. But as the crowd swarmed and oohed and ahhed at this strange new person, who looked like no one ever seen before, he knew better than to waste the goodwill. He plastered his face with a small smile and waved his hand a little.

He and the rival ended up walking back into the temple, the man laughing, smiling, talking with every and any one who drew close, pointing to China as some sort of exotic animal. It wasn't far from the truth, especially for such a small town. Still, he wished that all of these humans would stop poking and prodding him so he could get a word in with the nation. His smile threatening to drop down to a scowl after the thirteenth or so chat that the nation engaged in.

They were inside of the temple again. There was even more people now, thanks to the crowd the nation brought along. The heat from the bodies and sweat was positively crushing. On the other hand, the crowd of gawkers had mostly dispersed, having gone to properly worship. Besides a few curious glances, he was considerably freed up to interrogate the nation.

Interrogating was too harsh of a word. It was more so struggling to find a word he could still remember from when the guide ran him through some common phrases. Unsurprisingly, he immediately forgot most of them.

He tried to at first find out what religion the nation followed, if he worshipped the Buddha he himself had been seeking or others, like the statues in front of them. He pointed towards one of them. "You?" He tried a crude imitation of the word. He would be lucky if he hadn't accidentally said "anus" or something of the sort.

The nation laughed. It was a sweet, musical sound. China silently cursed himself for having such an attractive rival.

The foreigner then shrugged, and said some more words. China could catch some vaguely familiar phrases, but he didn't recall their meanings. Besides, he spoke so fast that it would have been pointless even if he did.

The man stopped talking, with expression that implied "sudden realization of talking to a foreigner who clearly doesn't have a good grip on your language." He sheepishly smiled and started speaking again, but this time much slower.

China knew he should be grateful for the stranger's patience, but he couldn't help but feel slightly demeaned. This is your own fault, anyway, he exhaustedly thought.

This stranger was now currently repeating a singular phrase and pointed insistently at his feet -no, wait, the ground- and back at himself. And now he was pointing at him and at the sky?

Apparently, he must have looked perplexed (because he was) since the nation started pointing at himself, repeating another phrase even slower, and restarting the whole dance again.

His words sounded like something almost comprehensible, something that China may have very well understood if it weren't for his fatigue induced stupidity.

His counterpart was now resorting to another pattern of movements- he was pointing towards a large statue and saying something- Shi-Aa? It was the best he could try to translate it to his syllables. The stranger pointed to another hulking statue and said something that China wasn't even sure was possible to produce using the human mouth. This occurred again for another statue, and another unpronounceable name.

Oh.

China's forehead slap would have echoed again and again off the walls of the temple if it had been empty. Of course, his name! The ground pointing earlier must've been him trying to ask him where he came from. It was fortunate that he realized how out of depth his visitor was and resorted to something simpler.

天啊*, was he really going senile? He looked back to the nation, who was looking quite amused.

Luckily, one of the things China did remember from the tour guide's impromptu language crash course was what exactly people called him around here.

"Sina." He bowed and as he rose up, smiled politely.

There was a sudden glow in the other man's eyes.

"Ah, Sina?"

The man grinned even wider. He pressed his hands against one another, finger pointing up, and with a slight bow, he said,

"Hind."

 **028\. Lost and Found (** **In which India can't quite put his finger on it** **)**

The stranger, or as he called himself, Sina, was currently preoccupied with the matter of defending himself from the local children, who too, were busy pinching and jabbing the foreigner's strange features and clothes. It was quite a humorous sight.

"Hello there, young man." He turned to see a hunched over man hobble over to him.

"Good day to you uncle." He greeted the elder as he joined him under the shade of the tree.

"Uncle, how is your back doing? I recall your daughter fretting about it."

The old man waved off the concerns. "Aarti's always worrying about me. My back's as good as it'll ever be, least since I got it injured in the war."

The man squinted over at Sina, who was now screeching as a particularly roguish boy pulled his hair down to the ground.

"Who is that over there?"

"Oh, that's a traveller I'm currently hosting as my guest."

"Hmph! Why does she keep her hair so long? Isn't it inconvenient to keep it trailing like so? Especially unbraided and loose." The man huffed, frowning at such frivolity.

"Erm, I believe that's a man, uncle."

"Don't correct me!" The old man snapped back. "I know a woman when I see one!'

He pointed a bony finger to Sina, who was now chasing down the group of children. "Such pale skin! Such dark tresses! Such shrill and feminine cries! Although..." The man scratched his head. "Unusual eyes."

" He's a foreigner, uncle."

"A foreigner?!" The man looked back, incredulous. "Well, she's certainly not from any place I've ever seen."

Hind did not point out how the old man had likely never gone farther than ten days away from here.

The old man continued. "What's ever caused you to decide to host a foreigner? And an unmarried man and woman together?!"

The elder then narrowed his eyes at his younger counterpart. "Especially for you! Friend to all, but close to none."

He let a snort out. "That, you are correct." He glanced over back to Sina.

"It's just that… he feels oddly familiar. Similar atmans, you could say. It may sound ridiculous, but I feel a sort of… kinship. Something that I have not felt in a long, long time."

The old man listened, before puffing himself up. "I would advise calling against calling any amount of time long at your age, young man. You have yet to feel the ache of time!"

He couldn't help it. He laughed, holding his middle as he guffawed, much to the confusion and affrontement of the old man.

"Kids these days!" The elder scowled. "Disrespecting your elders like this!"

"No, no, I mean no offense uncle!" He begged, despite his smiling expression. "Please don't take me like that!"

Oh, if he only knew how many millenia he had endured, how many cities rendered to dust, how many old men like him he saw be born and die. If he only knew.

He turned to Sina.

But **he** knew.

He still couldn't quite place the feeling down. But there was a connection between them that went further than nationhood, rivalry, or the shared burden of ages. Something that etched itself in his very beginnings, which he himself did not even understand.

But, he had all the time in the world for that.

 **029\. Exhaustion (** **In which Uganda asks for a solid** **)**

"Shalom?" Israel picked up the phone as he thumbed through some papers he'd forgotten to review.

He held back a wince when he brushed his finger too fast against the paper's edge. A bead of blood appeared on his thumb for his troubles. He rashly wiped it on on his sleeve as he swore silently.

He was preoccupied with cussing out the papers when a familiar voice answered.

"Greetings Israel." A polite and soothing voice lilted through the line.

"Ah, Uganda! It's nice to hear from you!"

"Indeed, it really is." He hummed on the other side. "I must confess that I need to ask something of you."

"Getting right to the point, aren't you?" Israel joked.

"Oh, you really must excuse my behavior." Uganda fretted, the embarrassment in his tone obvious. "It is just that I am currently under certain…conditions to ask for your help."

Israel rose an eyebrow to the inflection, but did not bring it up.

"You know my leader, he's always so forthcoming and honest about his ambitions. However, a modest republic like myself cannot always supply the needed items, and you already know how slow economic improvement comes here-"

"Uganda, you do know you're not speaking at a conference, right? No need to be so formal!" Israel chuckled lightheartedly.

"Apologies." He could vividly imagine Uganda awkwardly smiling on the other end. "At this point, it's almost like second nature to me."

"Now, what exactly do you need again?"

There was some more humming, which sounded like a cello strung up far too tightly. "Well, my boss… he, erm, wanted to add some higher tech into the army for a further boost in our defenses, but bear in mind, it's for completely defensive purposes! Nothing like a belligerent warmonger or that sort! I…"

Israel heard Uganda exhale softly.

"To put it simply, I need 24 Phantom airplanes."

Israel raised both his eyebrows, skeptical. "Uh, why?"

There was a pause and the next thing Israel heard was a deep and drawn out sigh, before Uganda tiredly replied, "My boss wants to invade Tanzania."

Israel had to manually blink to process that. He then peered into the phone like it had sprung grown a head of its own and cautiously, replied,

"Uganda."

"Yes?"

"Your boss does realize that Tanzania is 5 times bigger than you are, right?"

He could audibly hear Uganda exasperatedly shrug. "I'm not even sure at this point."

 **030\. Judgement (In which words shall be remembered for centuries)**

The main room was already bustling with nations from all over the world, with cliques gathered around the room. Egypt could spot out who was who even from a distance. There was the Turkic countries over there, judging by Turkey's booming laugh, and the southeast Asians over by the complimentary snacks, and the East Africans sitting right next to the windows.

Uganda was there chatting with Somalia, before he noticed Egypt. He turned to wave at him, and Somalia did the same.

Egypt was returning the gesture when Sudan suddenly abandoned him to cheerfully greet a newly arrived group of countries. Egypt coolly stared at him for such betrayal, which had little effect on the aggressor. Egypt settled for sighing and turned to scan the room.

He had always been a rather strange anomaly among the nations. Not quite African, not quite Middle Eastern, but also inexplicably a bit European. He didn't quite feel like subjecting his ears to Turkey's chatter today, and glanced over to the other members of the Eastern Muslim Mediterranean Crew.

Lebanon and Albania were currently collapsed from who knows what, and Palestine was probably angrily tweeting, so Egypt instead decided on a seat near the Gulf countries.

"Hey Egypt! Joining us this time?" UAE looked away from her iPhone X (Solid gold, he noted) and slyly grinned at him approaching.

"I am."

"Awesome." She went back to tapping on her phone, but she kept one hand held up for a high five. Egypt softly clapped her hand as he took his seat.

Saudi Arabia ignored Egypt from across the table, averting his eyes to frown at a wall. Egypt pressed his lips together, biting back a sarcastic remark. All this because he was the one who knew better than get involved in Yemen's affairs.

Then without warning, Kuwait stood up and dramatically cleared her throat before proclaiming, "The seventeenth meeting of the Gulf countries of the XXth Islamic Summit commences now, esteemed nations of the Arabian Gulf-"

"It's Persian Gulf!" Iran yelled from another table over.

"Mind your own business!" Saudi yelled back.

"You've had seventeen meetings already? In one summit?" Egypt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"UAE likes to commence a new meeting everytime she wants to show us all a new meme." Bahrain shrugged. "And Kuwait has been commencing new meetings everytime she's returned from the complimentary snacks."

"As I was saying," Kuwait squinted her eyes to the back of Iran's head. "The esteemed Arabian Gulf members have commenced a new meeting to welcome a new entrant to the table, Egypt! Thank you very much for joining our meeting, despite being nowhere close to the gulf."

"Thank you." Egypt responded.

"The objective of this meeting is to debate the most crucial matter," Kuwait continued, darkening her expression. "Is Saudi behind the times?"

"What?" Saudi looked up indignantly from glaring in any direction that didn't have Egypt.

"C'mon! You know it's true! Compared to Cool Town Kuwait City, who would want to go to Retirement Home Riyadh?" Kuwait countered.

"Kuwait, don't you think you're going overboard? Everyone knows that Muscat is where it's at." Oman smirked back at her.

"Don't retort to me Oman! Not when your cinema is absolutely pitiful!" Kuwait snapped.

"She got you there." Bahrain nodded. Oman had the expression of a wounded animal, pouting.

"This is coming from so called 'Hollywood of the Middle East', though. Don't be too hurt, Oman." Egypt consoled the deflated nation.

"You're the worst offender against my film criticism Saudi!" Kuwait berated. "Keif al-Hal was filmed over at UAE's place, and the lead actress wasn't even Saudi!"

"Also, banning movie theaters? How could you deprive people of their most cherished past times?" Kuwait wiped away a mock tear.

"You all know those Western films, promoting heretical and barbarous messages-" Saudi began.

"Saudi, this may be rich coming from us, but we think you seriously have a problem with banning fun." Qatar piped in, cutting him off.

"Oh Allah, don't get me started!" UAE stopped playing on her phone long enough to glare at Saudi. "Did you remember when he banned my Omar because he was too handsome?"

"Oh my, I do! And Omar!~" Bahrain sighed dreamily at the mention of the man.

Saudi glared at Bahrain, with no effect.

"He would have driven all the women to distraction!" Saudi protested.

"Please, that's if they could have even seen him! I doubt they could have seen past their niqabs!" Lebanon called out from a table over, having roused himself from his coma.

"Not all of them wear niqabs!" Saudi shouted back.

"Does it matter?" Lebanon retorted.

Saudi muttered grumpily, "Why is everyone eavesdropping?"

"I bet all of the censorship is to cover up some dark secret he has." Kuwait whispered loudly to UAE, ignoring Saudi's glower.

"Saudi, I bet you have a fetish or something," UAE grinned slyly, turning to him. Saudi scowled.

Egypt leaned in and murmured quietly to the table, "I bet three kebabs that it's a foot fetish."

The Gulf sisters (and Oman) snickered, much to the dismay of Saudi. "Saudi has a foot fetish!" Qatar sang, a little louder than was appropriate.

It was a lot louder than was appropriate. In fact, everybody within 10 feet of them gave them (and most importantly, Saudi) a very questioning and concerned look.

"Qatar!" Saudi exasperatedly groaned. "This is why we blocked you from the Gulf Meeting!"

Oman leaned closer to Qatar and replied, "Saudi, don't be like that. She only said it one time." Qatar nodded, with her best puppy eyes.

Saudi responded by exasperatedly pointed towards the room.

There were already murmurings going around the entire area, with the occasional nation speaking too loudly, and audibly uttering, "Foot fetish?"

Oman sucked in his breath and winced. "Okay, Qatar, this one's kinda on you."

"Is it true you lick toes?" Malaysia darted over to their group, looking incredulous, but apparently not noticing how much smoke was rising from Saudi.

"This is like Al-Jazeera all over again," Egypt remarked, and UAE and Kuwait nodded in agreement.

"Ay, in all my thousands of years of wisdom, I could have never foreseen such circumstances, Saudi." Iran called from his seat.

"Shut it, R*****." Saudi growled back.

Iran stuck out their tongue. "Oh, if only Muhammad himself saw what his Land of the Two Mosques was up to now, he'd-"

"I said silence, half man ." Saudi, already looking furious, rose from his seat in anger.

You could audibly hear some of the members of the room stiffen, even silently open their mouth in shock.

Iran's gender was not necessarily a taboo topic, far from it. They themself even joked about it quite often. However, it was Saudi's obvious disdain and disgust as he spat the words out that was… not custom.

But without missing a beat, Iran snippily replied, "Better half a man than a whole man who sucks the toes of a royal family that denies fellow Muslims Hajj," continuing to look down at her nails nonchalantly.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, those less restrained (or to be more exact, less inclined to like Saudi) burst into screeching and whooping. Saudi allies gasped and covered their mouths, but even Bahrain couldn't help but giggle. Regardless, there were no shortage of people who were on the ground, howling with laughter. Yemen, who somehow made it to the meeting, leaped and catapulted over to Saudi and gleefully screamed, "May Allah himself deliver water from Paradise to you for that burn!"

Egypt could feel the heat from here. He simply placed a cup of water in Saudi's hand, his eyes closed in mock mourning.

The room started screaming even louder, which Egypt had thought previously impossible.

At the end of the day, no one could answer to what Saudi's face looked like in the chaos. Well, except Iran. He refused to divulge any details. She was quoted, "I am simply too selfish to share the experience of watching a whole man dissolve into not even half a man."

* * *

 **27-28: I headcanon that China and India met during the spread of Buddhism into china. You may notice that they're being quite polite to each other which is strange because they're usually sniping at each other's throats- ah first beginnings can be wildly different lol. some terminology:**  
 **天啊: Roughly translates to "heavens- ah!" It's the chinese equivalent of "oh my god" or similar expressions**  
 **Atman: A concept found in Hinduism that can defined as "a person's soul, but in hinduism" which is greatly simplifying it and kinda has some connotations that don't really go along with it? But hey im running out of space look it up to know more**  
 **Also India was trying to say "Shiva" when he said "shiAA" if u couldn't tell lol**  
 **((Poor china, when he returns back to home he's going to find himself on the precipice of collapse lol...))**  
 **29: This is in reference to an event in which Idi Amin, crazy dictator of Uganda (srsly look him up he was nuts), demanded that his israeli allies give him planes in preparation for an invasion of Tanzania. In the background, they called him crazy in hebrew. The invasion surprisingly didn't work and this would eventually cause tanzania to march in to Uganda and oust him out**

 **26 &30: (Hassan and Tamir are respectively Egypt and Sudan's human names!) I like to call Chapter 30- "Saudi gets draggged" lol. They're attending the Islamic Council of Cooperation Summit which happens every three years where the heads of states meet up as opposed to the one where the foreign ministers meet up every year. However, there actually hasn't been an Islamic Council in Sudan, so i'm keeping things purposely vague (and also why i labelled it the XX Islamic Summit lmao)**  
 **God the next series of things are just like 528362 references to Middle east politics and popular culture dis gonna take a while:**  
 **0) Chad has quite the thriving illegal hashish trade**  
 **1) Lebanon and Albania are two primarily muslim nations that also are located on the eastern end of the Eastern mediterranean, shockingly.**  
 **2) Egyptian Saudi ties have recently been strained due to a combination of factors- Egypt promised to give back two uninhabited islands to Saudi in exchange for foreign aid but has yet to do so due to a rise of nationalism, doesn't particularly have the passionate Iran hatred Saudi craves in his allies, and again, with the proxy war Saudi's fighting in Yemen, Egypt noped out of it, having fought his own humiliating war in Yemen in the 60s.**  
 **3) the age old debate- is it the Persian gulf or Arabian Gulf? Imma not gonna dip my toe into that lava pit of worms**  
 **4) Muscat, Riyadh, and Kuwait respectively are the capitals of Oman, Saudi Arabia, and Oman.**  
 **5) Kuwait is well known for its thriving film industry and produces many films and dramas watched around the Arabian world- Oman on the other hand has only produced one Omani film and Saudi Arabia legit banned theaters in the 70s for being un islamic and there have been few films since then released, usually in tiny exclusive showings. They do however plan on opening some new AMC theaters this year in select locations! Keif al Hal was a movie made a few years that was proclaimed "the 1st Saudi big budget movie!" but was only shown in abt 17 film festivals lol**  
 **6) yeah they asked an emirati man to leave a festival in Saudi Arabia in fears he would distract the women and he ended up deported back to UAE he's unsurprisingly quite handsome look up saudi arabia banned man**  
 **7) Lebanon is quite liberal compared to other islamic countries in the Middle east thanks to both western influence and large non muslim groups residing within the country.**  
 **8) currently Saudi Arabia and his clique are in a stare off with Qatar because Qatar's Al jazeera newspaper releases a bunch articles both criticising regimes and allegedly supporting the muslim brotherhood whom Saudi doesn't like at all Oman's currently working as a mediator between Qatar and the Saudi clique (who are ignoring Qatar and not letting companies ship in supplies to Qatar)**  
 **9) ok,,,, Egypt and other members of the Saudi clique would totally watch al Jazeera as a (not) guilty pleasure**  
 **10)The R** here is in reference to the rafida slur, which means "rejector", and has been used as an insult by sunnis against non sunni sects, most prominently the shia sect. I am unsure of how offensive this term is considered by the shia community and censored it out of respect.**  
 **11) ya i headcanon Iran to be biologically intersex and there are plenty other nations that I also headcanon to be too.**  
 **12) Saudi has a great history of denying iranians frm being able to enter Mecca which is rly shitty because that's one of the main five pillars of islam ya know?**  
 **13) technically this gesture implies that Egypt is Allah delivering water to saudi, but it was in the heat of the moment man he's not trynna start fights**


	7. Allies, Attempts, and Ancestors

****In which a lot of people who don't like each other are forced to speak to each other****

* * *

 ** **031\. Obsession (In which Japan stays up all night)****

It refused to go the way he wanted to.

Instead of flowing across the paper like he so desperately wanted it to, the ink pooled and dripped. Instead of elegant flourishes, he got rudimentary marks scrawled on the paper, displaying the stutters and unevenness of the brush's ink flow.

The failed attempt was at once torn off and Japan considered just knocking the table itself over and letting the dark ink consume all.

It was late. His eyes were so tired that they were beginning to fail him. He tried to look at the pile of previous disappointments, but his vision wouldn't focus and all he saw was a moving blur of black and white and frustration.

The candle light shivered. How easy, he thought, it would be to toss all these failures and mistakes into the blaze and watch them go out with the wind.

"You did very well! I'm impressed that you created something like this."

He imagined the praise he would reap from this. The glowing pride that would light him up.

"I'm here for you. Slow your breath."

Teacher was right, he just needed to slow his breath. Shallow breaths evened out. He tried to imagine his flushed complexion was running through cool, cold river water. He felt a little less boiled.

" _Your traditions are strange. Good thing you have me to enlighten you."_

Teacher was right, again. Right like he always was. It was fortunate that instead of scrambling for survival in his backwatered island, he had an enlightened guide to lead him through the dangers of nationhood, especially in one's youth. It was fortunate that he had a target to strive for, instead of blindly clawing past year after year, like Teacher had described his own youth.

" _Do it again. Nobody would accept this."_

He tensed. He moved on, leaving behind the incomplete shamble of a character.

" _You would be a dwarf savage without me. Be grateful that it was me, and not some barbarian."_

He was grateful. Unimaginably grateful. That's why he had to prove that Teacher was right to graciously take him under his wing.

He thought. How did Teacher make it look like again? He loosened his grip, and tried to calm himself. He relaxed when he saw that the small stroke he made was actually not a completely blunder. He felt his cheeks push up against his lower eyelids. He prepared to make another mark.

" _You're pathetic, you know that? Imitation may be flattery, but shame on you for thinking that it was even possible to recreate the beauty of the gods, Wakoku."_

His throat felt lumpy, and his vision became a smear. And his enclosed hand trembled. The ink splattered, ruining a perfectly good stroke.

He stared at the mess for a bit, before he released the brush from his hand, letting its loud clatter echo in his ears. He put his face in his stained hands.

He and China were seas apart. And that wasn't just literally.

 ** **032\. Cold Embrace (In which Vietnam hosts her new show, "Pimp My Gun")****

"Yongsoo is coming in."

North Vietnam continued to polish her firearm with a slick rag, carefully pressing down the cloth in repetitive movements. "So you tell me." She drily replied to China. She knew that without turning her head, the nation in question was currently rolling his eyes.

China exhaled. "As your _ally_ , I felt obliged to tell you this," She looked up to see him twist his lips, meaning to look amused, instead looking rather forced.

"Much appreciation… ally." She turned away, resisting the urge to scoff at the word.

"No problems, comrade." He crossed his arms. "I thought it might interest you. Especially considering how many soldiers the little brat's sending."

This managed to peak her interest enough to stop grooming the weapon. "How much is he going to let that blond imperialist bleed him out?" She asked wearily.

"There's not much right now." China was facing the wall, playing with the telegram. It was probably older than him, judging by the various doodads on it, all in various stages of decay.

"The only thing my intelligence does tell me," He craned his head back to her. "It's only a matter of time before Alfred finishes briefing Yongsoo and they go all in."

Vietnam now fully abandoned her rifle cleaning ritual to bury her face in her hands. "He's got something to prove, doesn't he?" She groaned.

"Obviously." China went back to fiddling with the machine. "The little bastard's probably trying to make up for when Alfred basically fought his war for him."

Vietnam noted the tone of irritation in China's voice and snorted. Someone was still sore about westerners poking into his "supposed" domain.

In truth, Yongsoo's military involvement was of little surprise. She knew he had been sending support troops to the South since the start of this year. After all, she had been getting her own support from Sangjae. However, she could not help being disappointed by Yongsoo whoring himself out to the blond imperialist.

Centuries ago, she recalled China smugly showing paintings of a two nervous, fidgeting children (she didn't know how the artist did it, but he managed to transfer their obvious discomfort across miles) and proudly espoused of how well he managed to "civilize" the two. She had also remembered being bored out of her mind as China lectured her on how she should follow their obedience and subservience, a shame considering how much younger they were compared to her.

The last time she had saw Yongsoo was him looking a bit red eyed, but happy with his twin in the aftermath of Japan's departure. She was not there to witness their war. She had been preoccupied with the small matter of kicking out France, only to have him replaced with America.

Pity that Sangjae could not bring his brother back. But regardless, she was determined not to end up like him. Her war would be different.

That is, if she didn't kill her " _ally"_ first.

"I believe you haven't seen him in a while, correct?" China's lips moved upwards, but his eyes were cold and lofty. "You can look forward to seeing your little brothers again, then."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't talk to me like that. I'm the one who's older than you," she snarled.

He tossed a flippant look over to her.

"Debatable, _comrade_." He smiled, all teeth.

 ** **033\. Rebirth (In which Israel regrets the choices that led him here)****

"Can you please tell me about… Yehuda?"

Iran looked up from surveying her papers, with only his raised eyebrows betraying surprise.

"Well, that's certainly not something you see everyday."

Israel responded with an exasperated sigh.

"What has ever made Little Zion actually approach me, the lovely and exquisite Iran?" Iran batted their eyelashes exaggeratedly, and they smirked as Israel rolled his eyes.

"Believe me, I tried to avoid it." Israel pulled out a chair and plopped himself in it, narrowing his eyes at the much older nation across from him.

"It's… something that I've wondered about from the beginning." Israel said, looking down. "And it's something I've tried to figure it out, trust me."

"Sure." Iran remarked.

Israel continued. "I've asked the subdivisions over the years, but it's so frustrating." He griped. "A lot of them never knew the ancestors, and those that did are actually even more than a headache! Stories contradict, details wildly change, and they all insist that they have the real deal."

Iran looked coy. "I've long had an identity of being multi-ethnic and accordingly, inclusive and welcoming," -Israel gave her a look- "but even I wouldn't want to have to deal with so many personifications, separated by thousands of years and divergence. But, have no fear Little Zion, I am sure you'll be able to absorb them, given enough time, and be the last one standing."

Israel appeared visibly uncomfortable, and Iran gave him a curious look. "What? That's simply the way of our kind."

Israel shifted his gaze away, and changed the topic. "I tried a different route this time, and instead, asked outsiders."

"I went to the first decently old person I knew that wasn't you." Israel continued. "Armenia only told me that her boss took many of Yehuda's people to her and many came later on, but you were the one who took a lot of them to Isfahan. Then she told me to screw off."

Iran pressed his lips together in doubt.

"Okay, okay, she didn't say that verbatim." Israel rolled his eyes. "Yahweh knows she's too polite."

"I then asked Italy, since I figured he'd know something, as Rome was the one responsible for destroying the Second Temple, as you know." Israel didn't notice Iran tense.

"He gave me Romano's phone number, stating that Romano was the one who knew Rome in the flesh."

Israel leaned back, sighing again. "Romano was difficult to talk to. Not only are his memories about Rome less than clear, he says Rome didn't speak much about Judea."

"Conquerors don't busy themselves with ants," Iran remarked, bitterness evident in her voice.

"He spoke of how Rome first encountered my people when they travelled on the trade routes, but it was only with Rome's push eastward that he encountered Yehuda. Despite their initially pleasant beginnings, tensions arose, and wars broke out."

"And that was it. This time, Romano literally told me to screw off." Israel's eyebrows creased. "And then-"

"Just to make it clear, I don't particularly care about hearing every nation you inquired for your quest for the ancestors, but _okay,_ carry on." Iran looked at the time on the clock, and exaggeratedly yawned.

Israel gave him a scathing look. "You've listened to me for the last ten minutes. This is your fate now, old man," He grumbled.

"I tried asking around the rest of the Middle East-"

"-but everyone hates you." Iran finished for him, earning another glare from the younger nation. "How many hung up on you, huh?"

Israel only muttered something that sounded like, "Only half of them..." Iran smirked.

Israel wore an exasperated expression, knitting his brows together. "I went back to the subdivisions, and most of said that if I really wanted to know my ancestors, I couldn't put off asking you anymore."

"They are correct. But first, my opinion," Iran cleared their throat as Israel groaned.

"Well, I feel quite affronted. Everyone knows of my intimate ties with your ancestors, yet you so clearly ignored me and my experience, and for so long." Iran dramatically covered her forehead, looking wounded. "I am considerably hurt. Is this how nations treat their elders nowadays?"

"Get on with it, you artifact." Israel groused.

Iran made a face. "My point proven. But, to get to what you seek so eagerly."

He exhaled, leaning forward on their palms. "I suppose you could call Yehuda a person. Persons, to be accurate."

"They had been around for at least a few hundred years prior to my birth, and many lived in the land that was to become mine." Iran recounted, as her eyes drifted into the memory. "I was most familiar with the personification of the Judah tribe."

She smiled happily at the mention of the man. "I remember when he came to the court of Khoroush with his people, asking for help to return home. For nearly 70 years, he and his fellow Jewish tribes had been without home, as Babylonia and Assyria had taken their Temple and their home away."

"Assyria was the shadow of my childhood." Iran continued, and darkness flitted over their eyes. "Everywhere I conquered, most carried his scars."

"I was glad to topple his decaying empire," he grunted. "And when I did, Khoroush allowed Judah and his people to return to their old home."

"Afterwards, I would see him again and again." Iran played with the fringe of her sleeve. "He was strong. Unimaginably so. Even after I declined and Rome took him, he carried on, even though Rome treated him and his people like scum." Their hand tensed, and gripped the sleeve's fabric.

"It is no wonder then, that you are here to commemorate his efforts, even after so long." He looked up, and stared straight at Israel. "So, Little Zion. This is what I remember. Are you satisfied?"

Israel was silent.

"I'm afraid this may sound rude, Iran." Israel began, after the silence.

"You never are." Iran muttered beneath their breath.

"... but I already know the grand tales, the epic stories of magnaminty. If it is not too much to ask, I wish to know the human Yehuda. The man behind the immortal flesh." Israel finished, picking at his fingers.

Iran did not speak. Then, she sighed.

"... It is difficult to separate the nation and the man. His life as a nation affected him profoundly, as do all of us."

"But, I will humor you, Little Zion." Iran gazed up, with his trademark wry grin.

Israel put his head in his arms and simply sat as Iran's voice told the tales of a man who was more gentle than the world would allow. A man who was strong, despite his soft spokenness. A man who continued, despite it all.

He closed his eyes. He could almost see Yehuda, his weary face framed by brown curls, his gravelly voice. A nation like him, he mused. A nation who the whole world tried to crush, yet survived in his own way.

It would be really nice, he thought. If he could just simply talk to other nations like this. If he could just forget the politics, the games. He let himself drift with Iran to times long gone and loves long lost.

 ** **034\. Captive (In which Sudan is on the verge of killing a man)****

"A pleasure to see you again, sir." Sudan politely shook hands with the much older nation. "I hope you are in good health, Mr. Ethiopia."

Ethiopia's serene face only slightly nodded as he returned the gesture. "I am glad to say that I am. And you, Sudan?"

"Things are going well here in my home, especially now that we are at peace." Sudan replied, ignoring the fact that it was not.

"That must be a relief." Ethiopia's lips curled upwards, but it didn't feel much like a smile.

"What about your family then, Mr. Ethiopia?" Sudan carefully watched the man. A sneer? A flinch?

Ethiopia didn't even blink. "My family is doing fine. Eritrea is behaving as usual and the divisions are quite all right."

Sudan masked his disappointment. "I am happy things are going as such then," he responded, falsely.

"Mr. Admad," A bureaucrat stepped up, wearing a saccharine smile. "why don't you invite our guest here to your home?"

He looked between the two nations. "After all, we have much time before the official meeting commences."

"Thank you, Mr. Ibrahim." Sudan nodded. "I believe you are correct."

He looked at Ethiopia. "Mr. Ethiopia, it would be my honor to host you in my home. We can catch up on personal matters there."

"It is a privilege to be invited to your private home, Sudan. I gladly accept." Ethiopia answered. His stare didn't waver.

Sudan nodded silently. "Then I will lead the way. It is not too far from here."

The walk was intensely awkward, more than anything. Two suspicious men did not make for great conversation.

"Oh, look Mr. Ethiopia." He pointed towards a surprisingly healthy looking street dog. Its white fur remained spotless as it sniffed about in the garbage heap across the street. It found a morsel, and started wolfing it down.

"A clean pelt will not elevate a mangy stray." Ethiopia coolly remarked. "I've seen many like it."

Sudan could almost feel the physical prick of that jab. In a way, it was a gasp of relief when Sudan spotted the blocky bleached building.

"Ah, my house is over there." Sudan pointed towards the structure.

His house in Khartoum was nothing special compared to other houses in the area. It was nice, but definitely hard to maintain on the salary the government gave him.

"I hope you will not mind the state of things here. South Sudan is currently staying with me for some… re-education." Sudan stated as he unlocked the gate. "It was part of a personal deal, among us nations."

Ethiopia sounded amused as he said, "I'm surprised he agreed to it. Isn't he not much of the obedient type?"

Sudan scoffed. "Clearly. But the boy knew we all had to give up something."

"What did you give up then?"

Sudan sighed. "... A hefty number of material goods." He did not mention that the number of material goods took out quite the chunk from his government given salary.

He and Ethiopia both removed their shoes before entering the living room, and the first thing they saw was South Sudan staring off into the window.

"South." Sudan sternly called.

South violently flinched, and then turned around. "Oh… hey Sudan." His eyes flitted to Ethiopia, confused.

"South. Ethiopia will be staying here for a chat before we proceed with diplomatic business." Sudan explained. "Don't make a fool of yourself, please."

South slowly nodded. "Hello sir." He courteously greeted.

"Greetings." Ethiopia walked over and lightly shook his hand. South looked quite nervous as he took his hand.

Sudan just exhaled to himself. At least that boy had the know how to properly greet someone.

"Ethiopia, do make yourself at home," he continued. "I haven't been able to clean things up, so I hope you won't be too much bothered."

Ethiopia simply hummed a reply, looking at framed photographs of Egypt and Sudan together.

Sudan pressed his lips together, and turned to South. "I need to go to the kitchen. Keep him pleased, and try not to embarass either of us, if you can." he coldly ordered.

South hesitated, before carefully bobbing his head.

Sudan faced Ethiopia. "Please, you must forgive me, I haven't had the time to prepare for your visit. Allow me to get some coffee and cake ready for you."

"That would be much appreciated. Thank you." Ethiopia responded. He was now scrutinizing his bookshelf, looking disapprovingly at an Egyptian novel.

Sudan discreetly rolled his eyes and left the room before Ethiopia had to chance to lecture him. If he had to deal with the old man one second longer, he was going to feed his guest what that street dog was eating.

 ** **035\. Surprise (In which South Sudan bemoans the perceptiveness of Ethiopia)****

"Re-education, hm?"

South looked up to see Ethiopia, calmly inspecting some Quran verses hanging on a wall.

"...yeah." South sighed. He pressed his knees closer to his chest, as he picked at a houseplant's leaves.

Ethiopia didn't say anything. It made South feel anxious.

"The war was… tough on all of us," South began. "It was… good that we stopped."

Ethiopia walked over, and sat down in the chair next to South, though he didn't look at him.

South stared down at his feet. "I'm fine. We're all fine."

There was a pause.

"Then why are you in Khartoum?" Ethiopia simply responded.

Ethiopia was… right. He had never liked Khartoum. It was too hot, too dry, and the dust got absolutely everywhere. The atmosphere was positively suffocating. He could feel the glares of the cabinet members anywhere.

"I don't… hate Khartoum." South weakly answered. "I'm only here for a month or so, anyway."

Ethiopia snorted.

South turned away.

It was impossible with this man. He exhaled and said, "He promised me that I and my siblings would be a autonomous region, but… he insisted on getting me staying here for some lessons. On how to be a representative, and other stuff. It's a small sacrifice." South shrugged.

He looked back at the plant again. The poor lily looked parched. He gently stroked the shriveled petals.

"But… I wanna thank you, for supporting me, despite it all." South whispered.

Ethiopia didn't move. Probably a smart decision on his part.

He continued. "Thank you… for your help. Even if you don't agree with my ideas."

He wasn't a fool. He knew Ethiopia wasn't helping him out of a desire for aiding oppressed peoples. After all, he only had to look at poor Eritrea.

"I agree with one important idea, though." Ethiopia replied, motionless.

"Huh?" South tilted his head.

"Sudan is an asshole."

South blinked. And then he chuckled. "Yeah. That's really important," he laughed.

South wasn't sure if he saw a smile from Ethiopia, but whatever it was, it looked nice on him.

* * *

 **31: im gonna go ahead and say that Japan emerged prior or in early Kofun Period and spent approximately 300 years running around and about as a kid. He's prbly a pre/teen here. Anyway, i don't completely headcanon China's relationship with Japan as completely healthy (most of his kids now actually) , he was and is genuinely nurturing and "like a mother hen," but he was also a control freak who had a pretty rigid definition of what he considered acceptable or "civilized." he did help japan advance in many ways, tutoring in the arts of being a nation, but it wasn't,,,,, all happy.**

 **32: This is based off of the historical Viet-Sino alliance that took place during the Vietnam War. Vietnam did recieve aid from China concerning the war, but the alliance was hardly "warm," thus, the name. China was wary of Vietnam gaining too much power in the region, so they often preferred the Viet Cong in South vietnam. Vietnam also openly disobeyed Chinese advice on how to provide with the war to keep their independence, which pissed China off to no end. Also, both sides did not forgot the thousands of years of Chinese conquest and domination. Vietnam, for all the human traits that she could appreciate in China, she could not forgive him for the awful inhuman things he did.**

 **33: This takes place approximately in the Shah era of Iran, 1948-1979, which saw the alliance between Iran and Israel. While the alliance wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, i imagine it was when their relations were the best. Iran was actually the second muslim majority nation to recognize Israel! Despite relations, there was always tension between the two, as Israel was weirded out by this rudely polite old codger. Iran was publically cordial to him, but they had ties to Palestine that they weren't willing to give up on too. So yeah, even at their best, things were... awkward to say the least.**

 **Yehuda represents the tribe of Judah, which would eventually come to represent the jewish people as a whole. There were other tribes, as Iran explains, but they were conquered by Assyria, rather than Babylonia (who took out the Tribe of Judah) and they didn't get any Iranian decrees to resettle back in their homeland like Judah and a lucky few other tribes. They are more commonly known the "Lost Tribes of Israel."**

 **I headcanon that the Jewish subdivisions (Ashkenazi, Sephardi, etc) all have their own personifications, and they're all basically Israel's 23898919 parents. I'm still not quite sure how to exactly how to organize them due to the inherent complexity, so that's why Israel doesn't mention any of them by name. They are growing weaker in the present day, though, as Israel cements his identity as "the" Jewish nation, and I'm sorta sure at least some of the smaller and less distinct ones have already faded away.**

 **Armenian history of Jews goes back around 2,000 years ish when Armenian King Tigranes the Great brought ten thousand Jewish captives to the Ancient Armenian kingdom somewhere between 95 to 55 BC after retreating from judea. Then, Sassanid Iran took most of them and resettled them in Isfahan, the capital, of Iran in 4th century AD. (This is actually a very common imperial practice among Iranian rulers!) Israel doesn't have the greatest relations with Armenia, even though Armenians have long lived in Israel. Israel doesn't recognize the Armenian genocide and many Armenians say they are treated as sub class in Israel.**

 **When Rome declined, Romano became his successor, as the new personification of the city of Rome itself. Later, Romano would take on the job of representing Southern Italy. According to the Jewish Encyclopedia (published in the 1900s) the Jews were first drawn to Rome due to the trading routes between Rome and Alexandria. However, Rome only encountered Judea himself when he expanded east, and relations became pretty not good, especially after Roman conquest. In 70 AD, Judea revolted against the Romans and wound getting their temple destroyed. This is when I headcanon Yehuda's death. Jews who weren't killed in this were sold into slavery and flung wide and far across the Roman Empire, eventually leading to the rise of many of the European Jewish subdivisions.**

 **In 586, Babylonia destroys Jerusalem and the First Temple, which had stood for 400 years prior. Assyria knocks out the northern Kingdoms. The duo then exile most of Jews to Babylon and other locations. 70 years, Achaemenid Iran comes in, toppling over the decaying empires. Cyrus (or Khoroush as he is known to the Iranians) allows the Jews to return to their homeland and even helps them build the Second Temple. For this, Cyrus gets the title of "messiah," the only non Jew to ever to do so.**

 **There's so much discourse going on about the Jewish exile that I can't possibly expect to accurately explain in one Hetalia fanfiction chapter footnote so pls! pls do more research to gain a more accurate understanding!**

 **34-35: The first Sudanese Civil War ended with the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972. It began shortly after Sudan achieved independence from Britain as Southerners rightfully feared Northern suppression. I imagine this took place when Ethiopia's visiting like a month afterward the agreements were signed. The agreement led to South Sudan no longer being cut up into three different regions and granted it autonomy. The region would be governed by their own legislative and executive body, not Sudan's. Many leaders of the South Sudan forces decried this agreement because the agreement feel short of their initial goals- like self determination. There was also the matter that it wasn't witnessed by any international observers. But anyway, the thing ended the war and other shenanigans.**

 **\- When South refers towards siblings, he refers towards the other ethnic groups in the location, like Nuer or Azande. South at this time is meant to represent the Dinka tribes at his core, but since there are many subdivisions, there are a few Dinka sub tribes who've managed to survive this consolidation. He represents South Sudan as a whole.**

 **\- Ethiopian Sudanese relations were super tense since Sudanese leader Nimeri took power in a military coup- the Emperor of Ethiopia, didn't like that Nimeri was trying to make Sudan take a more active role in local politics, especially when they found out that Sudan was helping the rebelling Eritrean forces fight for independence from Ethiopia. So Ethiopia starts sending over massive amounts of secret aid to South Sudanese rebels.** **It must be really funny choosing Ethiopia as a neutral observer state only to find they weren't.**


	8. Photos, Palaces, and Peace

**Yongsoo: South Korea**  
 **Sangjae: North Korea**  
 **Atif: Syria**  
 **Camile: Belgium**  
 **IM BACK BABY**

* * *

 **036\. Change in the Weather (In which Vietnam realizes how much hotter it has gotten)**

"You haven't seen him in a while, right?"

Vietnam glanced up from her bowl of watery brown rice. China was giving a mildly repulsed look to his own.

"No. I haven't." She simply replied, before returning to eating.

There was a pause as China hesitantly picked at his food, and then began to eat too.

They both knew they could not be picky, she thought to herself. He had suffered numerous famines this century, as did she.

"Well," China mumbled through the sludge. "He's changed quite a lot."

He pulled his hand away to fumble around in his oversized pocket. "Here. This is the last photo I had of him." China pulled out a worn photograph (giving it a disapproving look) and handing the scrap of paper to Vietnam.

She took it, and inspected it. The photo was browned, and definitely not clear, but it was good enough. Good enough to give her a decent view.

"Oh… my."

Yongsoo had never been an ugly person, not at all. But his beauty before had been a sort of lithe, svelte kind, like the bamboo's elegant sway. It had been Sangjae who was the thicker set one, the boulder of the two.

While she could not call Yongsoo a boulder, he was definitely no bamboo anymore.

The picture was of Yongsoo… not shirtless, but the white tank top he wore certainly gave one a healthy dosage of his upper frame. Despite the bags under his eyes, he wore that same goofy grin as he posed proudly next to a fellow soldier.

She pondered. Perhaps a statue? Maybe a muscle bound feline- still retaining that same lithe grace, but now with the power to back it up.

Unfortunately, the look on her face did not go unnoticed by her comrade.

"He's not dating until he's 10,000 years old!" China indignantly squawked as he swiped the photo back.

She snorted at the ruffled man as he stuffed the photo away. "Calm yourself, old man." Vietnam wryly smirked. "I am only admiring."

"Besides," she shot him a knowing look. "You are far more guilty of lechery than I am."

China normally would have taken the jab in stride, with a impish grin. But perhaps her rare look of "appreciation" had unsettled him, because all he did was sullenly glare at her, keeping his mouth shut.

She only grinned wider, and returning to her porridge to relish the silence.

 **037\. At Peace (In which Kenya's nightmare is brought to life)**

The first thing Kenya sees when she wakes is a terrible beast.

As she slowly blinked the sleep out of her eyes, the beast came into focus. First, its shaggy blond mane, and then its thin lipped sneer. Last but not least was its positively enormous eyebrows.

She could never understand how England managed to maintain the creatures he called his eyebrows. She was sure that if she shaved them off (which she wanted to do very much), he would have a positively enormous forehead.

The mosquito netting that encircled her bed made the space between them much more intimate than she would have liked or tolerated. She groaned, then rolled back over.

"Good morning." He greeted her, taking a sip of his tea. She believed it was Earl Grey.

"It was a good morning. Til you showed up." she grumbled into the blankets.

"Rude." England sniffed at her, stirring his tea with a silver spoon he somehow procured. "So this is how the lower races treat their benefactors?"

"After all, your lot are quite obstinate about my efforts to civilize your barbarous ways." He tutted disapprovingly.

Kenya closed her eyes and imagined punching his eggshell white face. Pictured his teeth flying out, maybe a thin stream of blood too.

"But as much as I want to educate you, that is not something I intend to do while you're still in your dressing gown." His eyes razed over her. Truly, the mzungu did not know how to appreciate a half asleep woman still buried under her bedsheets.

"Breakfast is to be served at once. I suggest you rise quickly, even if it may be against your typical inclinations." Before she could even retort, England had exited the scene with a flourish. The only marker of his presence was flat imprint on her bedding.

Kenya groaned loudly and sprawled her arms across the bed. Internally, she invoked the supreme god Ngai to give her the strength, the courage, the fucking patience not to strangle England before breakfast ended.

 **038\. Forever and a Day (In which Syria gets called out by the fashion police)**

Syria, as he supposed he was now, was not liking this trip.

The journey from Damascus had been fine enough (or as fine as things could be whenever Lebanon was somewhat involved), but getting robbed blind by road bandits and being forced to make the rest of the trek to Istanbul on foot put a bit of a damper on things. Getting thrown into jail for walking up to the Imperial Gate and claiming to be a very important diplomat (all while dressed as a commoner and notably dirtied up) made things only slightly worse.

He shivered. Even though it was summer, it was quite cold in the damp prison chambers. It also didn't help that his right shoulder still hadn't healed from Turkey's sacking that winter.

He winced as he tried (and failed) to shift his shoulder. He supposed that's what one got for revolting.

Above him, he could hear Turkey yell off the ears of the officials who had jailed him. He simply sighed and covered his ears to protect them from the man's booming shouts.

"Atif! I am so, so humiliated!" The man in question dramatically gestured as the cowed officials opened up Syria's cell, flanked on both sides by armored janissaries. "I simply cannot believe the behavior of folks these day! Come, let's get you some proper clothes and food!"

"It's no issue, Sadik." He chuckled, shuffling out. "After all, it would be highly unusual if they had let in a beggared looking man spouting off."

"Nonsense!" Sadik beamed at the older nation before giving the officials a death glare. "Clearly, they do not know when to take a man's word for what it's worth. Follow me, I shall lead you to your palace chambers!"

He could only manage an apologetic grimace to the cowering officials as he followed out. But unlike him, they didn't have to permanently put up with the Turk. Oh, how he envied them.

Unlike Syria's previous attempt, Turkey only needed to beam dazzlingly at the guards to pass the Imperial Gate. He laughed and joked with them like old friends (which he probably was, given the man's disposition) and gave them a friendly wave as they entered into the palace. Turkey, of course, didn't seem to notice the curious glances they threw at the exhausted and bedraggled man following him.

And thus began the complex process of navigating through Topkapi Palace. What was with these maze like corridors? Syria had been in his fair share of palaces but even he couldn't tell where one room ended and another started. How did anybody know where they were going?

He looked out the pavilions. There were lush courtyards as far as the eye could see, and courtiers milled about, chatting and discussing. Gazelles and jeweled peacocks roamed freely on the green grounds.

He distantly remembered Iran talking about his peacocks, how she had imported the extravagant birds all the way from India. Even Turkey got in on the trend, then, despite the mutual hatred between the two had for each other.

Iran… Typical that they loved to interfere when all he wanted was to be left alone, but the one time when he needed foreign help, there was nothing but silence. Of course. What else did he expect?

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Turkey suddenly popped up, startling him out his thoughts. This elicited even more laughter from the other man.

"Atif! Calm down, I feel as if I'm going to give you a heart attack!"

"Hahaha… yes, youngsters like you certainly should be careful with elders like me." If Syria was lucky, he would keel over before he had to put up with anymore of the Turk's shenanigans.

After what seemed like decades, they finally came to his quarters.

Turkey clapped his shoulder, almost knocking Syria over. "Freshen up a little! Once you've find yourself some more appropriate clothing, find me and we'll talk over coffee and sweets!"

Syria nodded and gave a small laugh as he basically stumbled into the room. "Of course, of course Sadik, I'll see you soon."

The door shut behind him. Then, he quietly exhaled, and let himself slowly slide down to the ground. This was going to be a long trip.

 **039\. Nowhere and Nothing (In which Kenya fears for the future of food)**

Ngai must have been short on all three of those things, because by the time Kenya had stripped off the ridiculous get up England called, "pajamas," put on something more presentable, and stumble towards the dining area, the mere hearing of the European's clipped, posh accent was enough to dull her senses with rage.

Well. If Ngai would not humor her requests, then she supposed taking in a deep breath and counting to ten would do the trick too.

Counting to thirty five, she tensed and untensed her fist before striding into the room, ready to face the pale beast.

But, when she entered, the first thing she noticed was not the furry abomination. Instead, it was a small, limber woman, with skin as dark as hers and dressed in a similarly stuffy safari uniform.

She squinted at the woman's close cut curls. Why did they look… oddly familiar? It wasn't of her to distinctly remember haircuts of all things.

And then she noticed. The scar nestled in her nape.

"Oh." She blinked. "Rwanda?"

The slight woman turned to face Kenya, her slender face adorned with a look of curiosity. "...yes?"

But no sooner had the word came out, a spark of realization lit up in her eyes. "Oh! Greetings there!"

She smiled warmly, and held out her hand, and Kenya enthusiastically shook it. "It's great to see you here. I haven't seen you since... 1917, was it?"

Rwanda nodded. "Indeed, it has been so long. Come, let us dine."

Dining was a bit of an overstatement, judging by the serving table. It was offering… biscuits. Or at least that was what she thought Arthur called it. She would have called it inedible, but judging by the rest of the selection, she needed to find a more unique name.

Rwanda must have noticed Kenya's abject face of dejection at the state of culinary art, because she lightly laughed. "I know. Even Germany's food was better than this."

Kenya sighed dramatically "I would walk for days to get some tumbukiza. Beef… tomatoes… potatoes… seasoning ."

"Oh, don't you get started." Rwanda playfully countered. "I'm not even sure they exist in this realm."

"Well, if they do," Kenya rolled her eyes as she smiled at the black manservant, who spooned weak porridge into her bowl. The two women both ignored the incredulous look on his face. "I don't think the mzungus can comprehend such foreign concepts."

Even if she and Rwanda had been on opposing sides of the war, Kenya didn't hold much animosity towards the woman. After all, it wasn't as if they themselves had personally wronged each other. Only that their "benefactors" (former, in Rwanda's case), had done so to each other.

"You know, your English has improved greatly~"

"Oh, thank you," Rwanda dipped her head. "For as young as Ludwig was, he had quite the stack of books, even the English ones."

"The youngster always struck me as the studious type. Ah! That reminds me, what brings you here?" Kenya held her plate out for some rock hard biscuits. "I thought you were busy with Camile."

Rwanda sighed. "Well, yes, you are correct in that regard."

There was almost something grim about the way she smiled. "Arthur and Camile are having some... discussions, about the future of this region."

They both rolled their eyes at the word, and then laughed.

"That never bodes well." Kenya grinned.

"Indeed. Although this time, I'm surprised they let us actually sit in the other room while they make all the choices."

"What a privilege. But how strange of Arthur to not notify you, though."

"Ehhh, the man barely ever tells me anything besides how I 'ought' to be more civilized, for my own good." Holding the biscuit cautiously, she tapped it against the plate. It made a very strange sound.

Rwanda smiled knowingly, and then looked around. "Perhaps we should sit somewhere else. Somewhere more… private." she subtly gestured at the British soldiers milling around about the room, many of whom were staring at the duo.

Kenya nodded back. "Let's."

 **040\. Burning (In which Syria continues to be an affront against fashion)**

The kaftan was several sizes too big. He lifted and then dropped his arm. The velvet sleeve almost entirely consumed it. But Syria didn't think he could really bother to care at this point. He already spent enough time face planted in the obnoxiously silken bed.

He slowly opened the door to the hallway, carefully looking around for any potential witnesses to his fashion mishap. A eunuch servant was standing nearby, looking as if they had been waiting for him.

"Um… Ah, are you meant to take me to Sadik?"

The stoic eunuch only nodded. He waited for the nation to reluctantly shamble out of the room and close the door, before turning and walking off. Syria had to scramble to catch up, as his shoes, like the kaftan, were entirely unfit for him.

Then, the eunuch stopped in front of a doorway, and looked to him. Syria, more reluctance he would have liked to show, walked ahead and peered inside the room.

By the looks of it, Turkey had already made himself more than comfortable. He was luxuriantly sprawled out on a plush seat, hookah hose in hand.

Syria closes his eyes, sighs, and walks in.

"Atif!" Turkey grins back. "Took you long enough, was wondering if I had to go and check if you hadn't expired!"

There's a tightness to Syria's laugh that he corrects before Turkey notices. He stiffly sits down besides the other man, separated by only a foot of space.

Turkey offers the other hose with his hand, and Syria shakes his head, waving his good hand.

A eunuch walks over with a beautiful silver tray, holding an ornate casve of coffee and two porcelain cups. Behind him, followed a second eunuch, holding another tray, filled with sweets. The first laid the tray down, and began pouring the creamy liquid into the cups.

Turkey takes the sweets tray from the second eunuch, giving the deadpan man an energetic wink. His expression as he eyed the treats is almost comical, Syria notes with a dry smile.

The eunuchs then left, leaving steaming cups of coffee and mountains of baklava and stuffed apricots.

Syria cautiously lifted a cup and took a sip. Extra sweet, like Turkey always liked it.

Turkey took a big bite out of the baklava, continuing to smile as he munched away. "So, Syria, I'm so glad to see you accept my invitation! Shame you couldn't bring your siblings along, though~"

"Ah… I'm sorry, I was afraid that such young children would be inappropriate to bring along," he scratched his head. "You know how they are~"

Turkey laughed again. "Do I? Greece has been giving me hell since the last century!"

He washed down the baklava with coffee. "Doesn't seem like your bunch is that troublesome, though."

Syria felt the urge to burst out laughing. Suppressing it into a small smile, he replied, "Troublesome is not what I would use to describe them. Forces of nature would be much more appropriate, Turkey."

Turkey guffawed loudly. "Syria, how blunt! I would have never took you for such an impudent type!"

"Well," his eyes moved up, tapping his chin in thought. "Before you had your fun with Al-Ghazali."

Syria froze.

Turkey took a slow inhale from the hose, eyes closed. He couldn't be looking at Syria, but his veins still prickled under his skin.

"You knew why I invited you right?"

The previous warm atmosphere, no matter how forced, chilled. Even the sunlight streaming into the room dimmed.

"Yes, of course."

Turkey opened one eye. "What would be that reason, esteemed Eyalet of Syria?"

He didn't show how he bristled against that name, that cursed title. "To instruct and remind me of who I owe my loyalties and gratitude towards."

Turkey closed the eye, before opening both, smiling. There was a sharp edge to it, somehow.

"Good! Syria, you're a very knowledgeable nation despite first appearances, you know!"

He didn't smile back.

He wanted to bite back that he had seven times the knowledge this brat could ever acquire. How he had witnessed nations far greater than some steppe nomad invader leave nothing but ruins behind. How this upstart would never last long enough to understand the curse of age.

But he didn't.

Instead, he just sat there, unstirring, holding his coffee and not letting his eyes move up.

He heard Turkey take another breath in. "For all of your wisdom, though, you still couldn't help but strike me when you thought I was down, eh?"

He didn't answer, and he heard an exhale from the man. "Syria, I am not seeking to punish you. Look at me."

He did. And with almost sadistic deliberation, Turkey lifted the older nation's chin up.

The sun was beginning wane by now. He could see its rays stream in from behind Turkey, hiding and obscuring any features.

"I am a gracious man, Syria. And I'm certain that you know it too."

Turkey deeply sighed and glanced in another direction, looking thoughtful. Perhaps if Syria were a less restrained, less intelligent, certain Mediterranean nation, he would have rolled his eyes at this fake veneer of maturity.

"Everyone knows that my allies receive only the greatest prosperity,"

Suddenly, Turkey's head turned back, staring at Syria directly. His stomach dropped.

For the first time, the friendly and jovial Turkey was gone. Gone were the jokes, the smiles, the good humor.

"But those who betray me will curse the day they did."

All that was left was the beast. The beast who burned Damascus to dust, razed all that wasn't, and left him crippled.

"But enough talk."

And there it went. Gone, like so many on that night. Swiftly, Turkey let go on Syria's chin.

"After all, you have my gift to remind you." He studied Syria's lame arm with more than a little pity and glee. "And when you don't, it can always be given back~"

Syria could only blankly stare as Turkey let go and happily popped another sweet into his mouth.

Typical. Typical that he has to deal with this power hungry toddler flip flopping between cold ruthlessness and childish gluttony. Allah surely had a sense of humor.

He didn't want sweets. After that whole ordeal, Syria felt like he had lost his appetite for the next century. His good arm gripped the coffee cup tightly, wishing that it were hot enough to scald his hand.

"Oh! Syria, you have heard of my sultan's recent acquisition?" Turkey perked up grinning, as if he hadn't just thoroughly humiliated and threatened the other man.

"...err, not that I'm aware of. Conquered another state?"

Turkey's guffaw reverberated through the room. "Ahah! No, no, I meant women, Syria!"

And suddenly Syria felt the warmth creep up on his face. "Oh?"

The younger nation took another inhale on the pipe, biding his time. Then, he leaned in, slyly grinning.

"Her name is Roxelana. She's quite the beauty from Ruthenia- some would say famed, even. You should see those curves on her~"

Syria could hear the rush of blood streaming into his cheeks. He desperately wished he could raise his other hand to cover his face. "Turkey, please, have some modesty-"

Turkey roared with laughter. "Allah Allah! Syria, you're almost three thousand years old!"

He slapped Syria on the back so hard that Syria almost spilled all of the coffee. "I simply have to take you out to see the night dancers! Get some spine into you!"

He paused from his second Syrian assault to give a critical look at his contemporary's attire. "Maybe in some more fashionable clothing, though. Goodness, you look like you're drowning in that kaftan!"

Syria sighed. No amount of women was going to fix this mess. Lebanon was going to have a good laugh at this when he returned.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **36- most of the same notes frm last chapter continue to apply**

 **37+39- Kenya! Originally, she represented the kikuyu people, but due to the fact that she was more cohesive as a people compared to her siblings, she took on full representation for the Protectorate of Kenya. She has a pretty terrible relationship with Mombasa, a nearby muslim city state instrumental in the Indian Ocean trade who was also took part in the slaves raids that happened often. Ngai is the kikuyu supreme god in the traditional religion btw! This roughly takes place in late 1919, after the wwi and the formation of the kenya protectorate (unifying the interior lands with the coast strip)after wwi, germany's colonial possessions got yoinked including rwanda + burundi, and now she's under the control of belgium, who's busy enforcing the hutu tutsi genetic hierarchy; wow bet that wont ever come back to bite them oof**

 **-mzungu- swahili for a whiteyyyy**

 **-tumbukiza- a dish from kenya! you chop up some beef, add potatoes, spices, pepper, onions, and a bunch of other delectable things to get the perfect meal~~**

 **38+40- Syria as a concept doesn't yet exist, but i headcanon that Syria started his life as the city of Damascus and the Aramean Empire. By the time he's here, he's assumed representation for the Eyalet of Syria under Ottoman rule. Turkey here rn is going through a good time with Suleiman the Magnificent and what not. This is taking place after February 1521, when the Syrian revolt was put down but before Suleiman's campaign in Belgrade in the summer of 1521. During the revolt, the governor of Syria rebelled and tried to restore Mamluk rule (keep in mind that Suleiman's father had only recently defeated the mamluks and absorbed Syria + co into the empire) Tripoli, Hama, and Hims followed in their rebellion and the governor tried to get an alliance with Egypt's viceroy and Iran, Turkey's main rival. Iran shrugged and left him to die while egypt promised support while sent letters to Suleiman also promising support. The governor tried to take aleppo, failed, and his head was sent to Suleiman as a trophy. The ottoman soldiers then sacked damascus, killed 3000 residents and destroyed town quarters along with nearby villages. The name Turkey is used for recognition purposes. Topkapi palace is the primary residence of the sultans in istanbul and has a series of gates that lead further and further inside, as each corridor contains a more private part of the palace.**


	9. Hello Kitty, Haft Sin, and Helplessness

**happy newroz/nowruz folks! oh god so many historical references...**  
 **pakistan once again belongs to my dearest scilly~~~**

* * *

 **041\. Knowing How (In which Qatar spends her spring break with the other side of the family)**

"Oh goodness Iran, I can't remember the last time I celebrated anything with you, you know!" Qatar clasped her hands together in excitement. In the dim room, her face was only lit by the candles on the haft sin table of offerings.

Looking a the luscious fruit arrangements, Qatar's hand itched to take photos. If only Iran hadn't forced her to put her platinum and gold iPhone away for the evening.

Iran hummed something non-committal back as he shuffled the apples around on the table. "I don't think you ever did. You were always busy, either with the Arabian tribes, or sitting around in the sea."

Qatar pursed her lips. "You know I'm no longer a little fisher girl, anymore, right? No more pearling for me~"

"Hard to mistake someone draped in fine silks and designer jewelry as a fisher girl. I haven't gone senile like Syria yet." They shot a critical look at the wheatgrass growing.

"Should have known better than to trust Kyrgyzstan with growing the sabzeh. Only I can prepare a haft sin table to perfection."

To Qatar, the grass seemed perfectly fine -after all, it was green- but then again, she didn't see the real stuff all that often.

Before Iran could continue to disparage the haft sin table, someone knocked on the door. Muttering something under their breath, she quickly turned and rushed off.

Wow. For as old as Iran acted sometimes, they sure could speedwalk.

Qatar followed behind, but at some point, lost the old codger somewhere in the unfamiliar hallways of the house. Despite this, she managed to make her way to the front door, slightly out of breath. And then-

"Hello Qatar!" someone mellifluously called out.

Before she realized it, she was swept up in a light hug from India.

"Oh, greetings India." Just as briskly, India let her go to pat her head like an old uncle. "Norooz Mobarak! I didn't know you joined Iran in the celebration."

"But of course!" India dramatically pushed his hair back. "Many of Iran-ji's Zoroastrians dwell on my land! It's only fair that I visit occasionally and show my support as a firm ally~"

"Uh, hey I'm here." Pakistan poked her head out from behind India's Bollywood worthy pose.

"Hello there Pakistan," Qatar politely waved at her. "Celebrating Nowruz too?"

"Yup! Balochistan celebrates it every year, so I thought I would try it this year with my dearest friend, Iran." As Pakistan said that last part, she looked daggers at India. India pretended not to notice.

"Ey Baba," Iran rolled their eyes. "The two of you need to get inside before I change my mind about inviting you."

India and Pakistan complied, albeit frostily glaring at one another. Qatar sidled up to Iran.

"I'm quite surprised to see them together." She whispered to him. "Do you have some sort of potent magic during Nowruz?"

The older nation sarcastically smiled. "None other than political know-how, gleaned from a long, illustrious life."

Qatar laughed. "Then you must show me- I could use some diplomacy lessons myself."

"Clearly."

Iran threw a look to the bustling streets outside, as if scanning for someone. She then turned back and ushered Qatar back inside, shutting the door behind them. "Come now, wouldn't want to leave them alone too long. My magic can only be so strong."

 **042.** **Online (In which Hong Kong should really clean up)**

"What are you doing?" Hong Kong asked he walked in, hand in a bag of chips.

Taiwan didn't look up from her phone, lounging on the sofa. "Texting."

He took a seat in the adjacent chair, popping another honey potato chip in his mouth. Crunch .

"Who is it?"

"India."

His bushy brows rose a bit, before they lowered in amusement. "Can't wait for the dragon's temper tantrum."

She chuckled back. "Yup. Do tell if he complains on some parenting forum on Weibo."

"Will do. Last time he was yelling about children no longer honoring the old ways." He licked the honey dust off his fingers. "What's Acha* up to?"

"He's in Iran, apparently." She was scrolling through an album of amusing reaction photos now. "Somehow, Pakistan's in the same room as him, which he's complaining about to me right now."

"Yikes. Wouldn't want to be in that room."

"Mmhmm. No wonder the old man loves to butter up to her."

Hong Kong sniggered, causing a few chips to fall out and onto the floor. "Hypocrite much? You know he's doing the exact same thing to you~"

Taiwan stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever it takes to combat the Shina." She reached over and grabbed a fistful of chips out, eliciting noises of distress from the other nation.

"Why's he in Iran anyway?" Leon inquired, arms possessively wrapped around the chip bag.

"Something about a nations-only holiday event," Taiwan set the phone down. "I think Iran's hosting it, and that's why. He said he could use the break."

She chugged down a cup of tea. "But the way this conversation is heading, it seems like the furthest thing from relaxing. He keeps on leaving me on read to argue with Pak."

"Shame." Hong Kong aimlessly flipped through the channels. "He mention anything else?"

"Not really." Suddenly, the phone vibrated. She picked it up, and upon scanning the notification, snickered.

'"What is it?" Hong Kong looked away from the imperial drama currently playing on screen.

"It appears that India's currently trying to convince his sister that her ally, yours truly, is a chump and a loser." Taiwan replied. "Have any embarrassing stories of Yao?"

"Photographic age or before?"

"Photographic age."

"Old fucker got absolutely shitfaced in the 1990s when Arthur gave me back to him. I think we were having a post karaoke 'celebration,' and by the end of it, he and Art were both shirtless and singing bawdy songs."

"Pics or it didn't happen."

"Bet." With some difficulty, he got off the sofa and walked down the hallway. Taiwan followed suit, phone still in hand.

They stopped in front of a door; it was conspicuously musty, and a thin layer of dust laid beneath it. Hong Kong reached into the pockets of his sweatpants and dug around, muttering Cantonese curses. After a few seconds of searching, he procured a rusty brass key and turned the door lock.

As soon as Hong Kong cracked the closet room door open, a wave of dust descended upon them. Taiwan coughed, blinking rapidly. "Good Lord, when was the last time you cleaned?"

Hong Kong squinted at a dusty wall spot, wiped a bit off with a finger, and carefully inspected it.

"...2008 to 2010, ish. I could be more accurate, but that would require me to lick it."

"Under normal circumstances, I would dare you. However, my client is in desperate need of blackmail, so I shall not."

"How desperate can Acha really be?" Hong Kong responded, rifling through a filing cabinet case. "Hasn't he known the fossil for like… forever?"

"It never hurts to add to your armory," Taiwan wagged her finger.

Hong Kong shrugged, peering at a towel reading 'grass mud horse.' "I guess. Ah, here it is."

He pulled a heavy album from the very back, and turned it around in his hands to get a good look.

The photo album was a plastic pink binder, covered in knock off Hello Kitties and washed out red hearts. On the front read, "Baby Memory," in a rudimentary font- not Comic Sans, but eliciting roughly the same emotions. It was also as thick as a suitcase.

"I'm." Taiwan had no words.

Hong Kong sighed irritably. "I lost, like, 800 dai beng* to Macau that month I was transferring all my stuff, so I bought the cheapest one I could find."

"Couldn't you have asked your bosses for more money, then?" Taiwan smirked. "Did the old man finally pass on his kawaii bs to you?"

Hong Kong slapped his dusty hands together, causing more soot to rise and Taiwan to cough again. "How dare you. How dare you Mei, I can't believe you would sully my name like this."

Taiwan wheezed, glaring at him. "Jerk."

Hong Kong side eyed her. "I'll have you know that I did ask them for more money, and they threatened to cut off my electricity if I went over my budget again." He didn't look back as he walked out, Hello Kitty album in hand.

By the time Taiwan managed to rub the dust out of her eyes and join him in the living room, Hong Kong was cracking the album open on the coffee table. She took a seat on the floor next to him, throwing curious glances at the gigantic brick.

"Oh my god… are those… nation baby photos?"

Hong Kong groaned, throwing a hand over the dirty photograph. "Ughhhh no they're not."

"You were so cute back then," Taiwan cooed, peering down at a brown photo of toddler Hong Kong, posed stiffly with England. It was tastefully framed by a dead eyed My Melody in the corner. "What went wrong?"

"England's cooking, that's what." He quickly flipped past the page. Slowly, the pages turned from sepia to color, the quality slowly sharpening.

If there were any other nations, it was mostly England. The first few pages had a bit of China, but they quickly disappeared. Flashes of America and Russia and others popped up here and there, but they were largely photos of Hong Kong alone by himself, or scenery.

"Do you still keep up with this?"

"Actually, yeah. I still, like, annually print out my new photos and put them in here."

"Wouldn't it be more convenient to transfer all of them digitally instead?" She responded, leaning her chin against her hand.

Hong Kong paused for a bit, and shrugged. "I mean, yeah. But everytime I started to upload them, I always gave up or got distracted."

He leaned back on the sofa. "I guess having a solid copy feels better… more reassuring? Digital has only been around for like twenty years or less, you know."

Taiwan nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Didn't expect it from someone like you though- you're always on your phone, playing some kinda game~"

Hong Kong snorted. "You're no better- I see you and your gatcha game obsession."

"Still, even I don't bother with printing any of my pics. They're all sitting on my laptop or in a flashdrive from the 90s."

"You may laugh now, but that just means my stuff will survive the digital decay apocalypse."

"You're so right, Leon. When the economy inevitably collapses and we're all forced back into subsistence farming, the number one thing I want to have with me is your Hello Kitty photo album."

"It'll be the currency of the new world order we build: a Hello Kitty album for a month's rent." Hong Kong grinned slyly. "Oh, here it is."

Hong Kong moved back to reveal a photograph of his hand in a peace sign, inside of a low lit karaoke room. Behind it, were England and China passed out on the couch, both men shirtless and noticeably drooling. China had a tie knotted around his head while one of England's eyebrows was conspicuously missing.

Taiwan snapped a photo. "The Republic of India thanks you for your contribution."

Hong Kong bowed his head. "Likewise. In exchange, the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the PRC requests to be transplanted into the Indian Ocean in the event of a Chinese takeover."

"I'll start ordering my Hello Kitty albums then~~"

 **043\. Family (In which scoldings are doled out)**

When they arrived back, Pakistan and India were at each other's throats arguing about something. Turkmenistan, standing off to the side with a plate full of naan berenji, shrugged to them.

"India joon, what's the matter between you two?" Iran sighed, stepping in front of them.

India whipped around, not a single hair out of place. "Iran-ji! You must be the arbiter of our dispute here."

"You see, I am trying to make the argument here that our 'dearest' friend China here is not as he presents." India made big air quotes with his fingers as he said dearest. "But I'm afraid that Pakistan simply refuses to listen to her elders…"

"You mean, I'm listening to the wrong elders, and more specifically, not you." Pakistan rolled her eyes. "Iran, I think you know how unreasonable bhaijaan is being, and that nations must maintain good relations with allies!"

"Like you and Saudi Arabia?" Iran dryly remarked.

Pakistan flushed indignantly red, stuttering. India looked very smug.

They sighed, and pushed past the two to take the naan berenji from Turkmenistan. "You know, I always hate to take sides in any conflict," he said, carefully setting the treats down.

For some reason, the image of Yemen floated by in Qatar's mind.

"But, Pakistan, I'm sure that there's a way to both respect your elders while maintaining your autonomy, right, India joon?"

Pakistan shook the red out of her cheeks, and regained her composure. "Of course, Iran! But I think as an independent nation, I should be allowed to be friends with whomever I want."

Thoughtfully, Iran put a finger on her chin.

India puffed up, trying to look taller. "Perhaps Iran-ji, but is it so wrong for a big brother to be worried about who their siblings are associating with? Making sure they're not getting mixed in with the wrong crowd?"

He theatrically held up his phone, displaying a picture of a collapsed and drunken China drooling besides a similarly comatose England. Something was off with England there, but Qatar couldn't quite place what...

Iran snickered, glancing to Pak. "You sure do have a way with allies, then."

Pakistan glared at the phone, but Qatar caught the faintest upward twitch of her lips. "Whatever Yao does in his free time is none of my business- I'm sure we've all acted a little more foolish than we would've liked to."

"After all," She pointedly looked at India. "You've done your fair share of stupid things with both of them."

Iran nodded solemnly, like a judge presiding over a trial.

Turkmenistan leaned over to Qatar as India launched into another tirade. "Frankly, I'm just surprised that those two are even talking to each other," she whispered to her. "That's the power of Nowruz for you."

Qatar bobbed her head back. She had heard about the border conflict too. "I've been to quite a few parties too, but nothing quite ever… like this, I suppose."

Turkmenistan laughed, winding a finger around her braid. "I don't think any of your Gulfi galas can compare to a Nowruz banquet, especially one hosted by Iran. You're quite lucky, you know, she doesn't host these every year."

"Why not?"

"Well, everyone knows how busy we can be. And Iran, think of how occupied he is with all of his politics and drama- it's a tough job to round all of us up in one place, one time." She and Qatar both chuckled and glanced over at the nation in question, who was looking increasingly tired of the squabbling siblings.

Iran firmly put a hand on both of their shoulders. "That's enough." they said. "As entertaining as you two can be, Nowruz is meant to celebrate new beginnings; while the past cannot be forgotten, can we keep it all… Qatar, how do you youngsters say it, low style?"

"Low key, gramps." Qatar exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

"Yes, low key!" Iran smiled, while not letting go of either of the South Asians.

India delicately put a finger to his brow. "Always correct, Iran-ji. We came here to celebrate like humans, not to fight like them."

Pakistan side eyed her brother, before politely bowing her head to Iran. "It did get a little out of hand- thank you, Iran, we will both try to keep things cordial."

Iran let go of the duo, and looking pleased with themselves, patted Pakistan's back. "Finally, someone who knows some respect! Qatar, you could afford to take a few lessons from her, you know."

Instinctively, Qatar sniffed, turning her head up. "I know how to respect my elders- I'm more dignified than any of my sisters, I'll have you know."

The elder nation did not look impressed. "Firstly, stop it with that 'regal and mature' act, will you?" She cocked a brow. "I know what wisdom looks like, and that's not it."

"Secondly," he continued, cutting off Qatar's protests. "You're not saying much— all you Gulfis are rotten from being so lazy and spoiled."

They lightly slapped Qatar over the head. "Never used to a single day of hard work, hmph!"

"Hey!" Qatar rubbed her head, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. "I worked hard! How do you think I managed to climb up so high?"

"Oil?" Pakistan replied.

"Well, yes, but it was only with responsible management and careful spending!"

"And US dollars." Iran reminded.

Qatar crossed her arms. "You're really not helping my case here, Iran."

"I'm not here to coddle you like Saudi Arabia," Iran poured themselves a cup of tea. "If you wanted someone to smile and nod, you could have just kneeled down to the man and begged for forgiveness."

"Saudi rarely even smiles…" Qatar muttered under her breath. "Whatever! If you're 'not here to coddle me,' then you didn't have to drive me here from the airport, you could have let me drive myself to your place, like everyone else did!"

Iran gave a look at the Gulfi. "Qatar, that's no matter of coddling- it's a matter of national security. I would sooner kiss Turkey than let you drive your way through Tehran."

"Didn't you, though?" India amusedly remarked, sipping his tea. "I remember the Safavid Dynasty~"

Iran opened her mouth to retort, when suddenly-

"Hey bitch."

 **044.** **Everyday Magic (In which sometimes, we just don't know why)**

"Fuck Egypt." Ethiopia declared one night, as he lounged in a park in Addis Ababa. He raised his box of orange juice to the setting sun.

Miles and miles away, across the Red Sea, Syria, sitting in a rundown Damascus apartment, suddenly felt like raising his glass of water. "I'll drink to that," he said, not really knowing why.

 **045\. Accuracy (In which Iran's cookies are snacked on by an uninvited guest)**

Everyone turned, and a young man in a military shirt and loose jeans was leaning against the doorway, arms folded.

"Hello, heathen." A smile played at Iran's lips, and yet strangely, it didn't have a trace of amusement. "How did you get in my house again?'

"Afghanistan let me in."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry." Afghanistan yawned as she entered the room. Evidently, jet lag was still having its effects on her.

Qatar patted the non-existent dust off her legs, and sat up straight. "Um, if I must interrupt, may I ask who is this?"

"Nobody." Iran replied primly.

"Thanks." The intruder snorted.

Tajikistan's head popped out of the kitchen. "Oh hi there, Kurdistan! Haven't seen you in quite some time!"

"Thank you , Ms. Tajikistan." He snapped his fingers. "As much as others try to deny it, I do have a name."

Kurdistan... of course, Qatar remembered the referendum last year. Before she got kicked out of the Gulfi Golf Club, they had been on distant, yet pleasant terms (Saudi, and the rest of the Gulf by proxy, were always eager to frustrate Iran's interests) but afterwards, Iranian interests suddenly held a lot more weight. Which led her to her next point...

"Er, don't you two…" She made a few vague hand gestures at Iran and the guest. "Absolutely hate each other?"

"You're very right in that regard, Qatar!" Kurdistan said, plucking a naan berenji off the plate. "However, when I caught word that Iran was hosting a good old fashioned Newroz feast -and with a Gulfi, of all things- I just couldn't miss it~"

Who knew that her presence would cause such a fuss? She smiled. Well, she couldn't complain about the attention, it was a welcome change from Iran's scoldings.

"So... what do you normally do for Nowruz, then?" Qatar rested her chin on her hands, looking attentive.

Kurdistan sat down next to her, and bit into his cookie, ignoring Iran's side eye. "Usually, with my people, of course! But, if I feel like spending some time with a fellow nation, I quite enjoy popping down to visit Israel when I can. It's Purim for him around this time of the year, and he's getting absolutely smashed right now~"

"Heretics seek each other out for company, of course." Iran muttered. "I'm going to start setting out dinner, so be prepared."

"Ah, but how can anyone begin a Newroz feast without spinning a proper story?" Kurdistan took a another bite, grinning.

Iran narrowed her eyes. "That ridiculous fairy tale? You've told it every Nowruz you worm your way into."

"My 'fairy tales' are splendid, as you know. And besides, someone hasn't heard it before." Kurdistan glanced over at Qatar. "Don't you want to know the origin story of Newroz?"

"No, no she doesn't." They primly replied.

Qatar sucked in some air. "Well…"

She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little curious. None of her research (read: google search) brought up the exact origins of the ancient holiday.

"Good! I'll take that as a yes!" Kurdistan clapped his hands together. The Iranian gave Qatar a look, and she apologetically shrugged back.

"Long, long ago," Kurdistan began. "An evil Assyrian king named Zuhak had conquered over all of Iran."

Said Iran rolled his eyes, and disappeared into the kitchen.

"He was so vile and evil that serpents grew from his shoulders!"

Kurdistan put his left hand behind his right and wiggled them, in a imitation of the serpent backed man. This elicited a round of chuckles and laughs from the audience. Even spring refused to come to Kurdistan anymore."

The dim candle glow served only to make Kurdistan look more ominous as he continued. "Those serpents caused pain in Zuhak's shoulders, so he demanded two young men each day to be sacrificed, their brains offered to the snakes, alleviating his pain."

His two upright fingers collapsed, falling flat.

"Why brains?" Pakistan asked, raising her hand.

Kurdistan shrugged. "You never know, brains may have the secret to immortality, for all we know."

"I… I don't think that's how biology works…"

"Shush!" India looked at Pakistan. "Don't be so rude! And besides, what do you know about brains and biology?"

"Bhaijaan, I have a degree."

Iran poked their head back in, and pointed two fingers towards their eyes, and then back at the two South Asians; it was more than enough to shut the duo up.

Kurdistan carried on. "However, the man in charge of the sacrifices would only kill one man, mixing his brains with those of sheep to save the other."

The left hand scurried off, while the other remained motionless, lying palm up.

"Eventually, discontent against the cruel Zuhak grew, until the blacksmith Kaveh rose, having lost six sons to the sacrifices. He led an army of the saved men to the evil king's castle and struck him dead with the blow of a hammer."

He dramatically swung his fist into his other hand, sending it flying.

"He then lit fire to the hillsides to celebrate his victory, and spring returned to Kurdistan." Kurdistan triumphantly held up a candle, dangerously close to a hanging carpet. "It was the Kaveh's army of saved men that were the ancestors of all Kurds, and ever since, we have always been a strong, unique people."

"...how accurate is this?" Qatar tilted her head.

"Personally, my memory tells me that Zuhak was actually a certain nation all along, but it was less snakes, and more like a snake." Kurdistan side eyed the kitchen. Iran leaned back into frame and put her thumb up at him.

He put the candle down, causing Afghanistan to breathe a sigh of relief. "Terrible that I missed the Chaharshanbe Suri last week. You know, in my place, you can see all the bonfires from the sky!"

"... Didn't you once celebrate by strapping fireworks to your sneakers and breakdancing?" Turkmenistan asked.

"I did! How did you figure that out?"

"...Iran showed me. It was on Israel's twitter."

* * *

 **41+43+45:**

 **nowruz is iranian new year- it's a tradition that dates back to Zoroastrianism and is celebrated by many regions formerly controlled by the Iranian Empire, and to Zoroastrians today, it remains an religious holiday! It marks the beginning of the Iranian year and is seen as a holiday of rebirth and starting anew. Despite being called Iranian New Year, it celebrated by millions of non-Iranians every year and across several countries!**

 **Haft Sin: a collection of items that are meant to represent a different hope for each item- some items change and vary, but the wheatgrass (sabzeh) is one of the constants! The grass is grown for weeks prior to the holiday, symbolizing rebirth and renewal.**

 **I KNOW THAT LIKE THEM CALLING EACH OTHER IRAN JI AND INDIA JOON (suffixes that connotate affection) IS KINDA WEIRD AND STIFF BUT I HAVENT COME UP WITH PROPER HUMAN NAMES FOR THEM YET SO I M JUST STICKING WITH THIS...**

 **bhaijaan = big brother in hindi! Pak ends it bhai with jaan because bhai used by itself can be an insult in some places**

 **ey baba= "oh father," roughly equivalent to "oh god"**

 **When the islamic conquest of iran happened, many of iran's zoroastrians fled to india to avoid religious persecution, where many of them continue to live today, and also why India is under the list of countries that celebrate Nowruz! the balochis in pakistan also celebrate nowruz too!**

 **naan berenji= iranian rice cookies with poppy seeds! looking at the nowruz twitter tag rn and im so hungry... so many good rice dishes soB**

 **pakistan traditionally has been closer aligned with saudi arabia compared to iran so yeah of course iran won't let that go agsdhahjsdjh**

 **basically the joke is is that when qatar thinks of yemen when iran says "i hate drama" is because iran is currently supporting shia rebels in yemen and fueling the war and this wasnt the first time- been going on for decades at this point**

 **Pakistan and China have a super duper close relationship with one another for multiple reasons- china is currently jockeying with India to be The Asian Super Power, and being the two most populous countries in the world, India is really the only country that stop China's ambitions. So China just needs an ally against India, and pakistan, who has had a very not good relationship with india and very close by, makes the perfect ally. Enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. so yeah, china's best buds relationship with pakistan is also a very sore sport for india asdhhahsdhkhkhd**

 ** **okay basically the really interesting thing of writing this while political events continue to happen is that things can change really rapidly in the process of** **writing! like deadass, i started writing the scenes with pakistan and india, and then once the border dispute occurred, i had to go back and change it in recognition of current events! holy shit man...****

 **Pakistan-India 2019 Pulwarma Attack : In february, a convoy of Indian soldiers was attacked by an Islamic extremist suicide bomber in the kashmir region, which is disputed between India and Pakistan. It resulted in 40 men dying, one of the deadliest attacks in recent history, and india blames pakistan for not doing enough to combat terrorism, and even linked the government to be partially responsible. pakistan has denied being connected at all, and its highly suspected that this inflammatory rhetoric is because Indian prime minister Modi has to face elections soon. it's basically causing a military standoff between the two, who i will remind you, both have nuclear weapons so :). I won't talk about the lives lost in the convoy, because i dont feel that hetalia is really the appropriate medium to respect and honor them? this fic deals a lot more heavily with the political effects honestly but yeah **

**apparently, traffic and driving is legendarily bad in the Gulf...**

 **Safavid Dynasty = one of the eras in Iran, the main rival of Ottoman turkey!**

 **Kurdistan! I know it's technically making a political statement by having a rep of Kurdistan in the first place and even more so by having him be one continuous entity for all kurds but this is my fic and i do what I want lol. The kurds are a distinct ethnic group frm the Arabs in the region and have their own unique culture! during the carving up of the Ottoman empire, the kurds ended up taking the L and were divided up among Iran, Iraq, turkey and other countries, and have... not been treated well, saddam hussein used chemical weapons on them at some point so it aint good fellas**

 **2017 Kurdish Independence Referendum : an independence referendum held for the kurds living in iraq, who currently have an autonomous region and basically function as a government at this point- their army was super effective against fighting daesh/isis in the region, which has given a great boost to them! (god... i first started writing the beginnings of my kurdistan oc back in 2015... oh how time flies) iran is super pissed because kurds also live in their region and they dont want them getting ideas, saudi arabia is gunho because fuck iran, and uae is enthusiastically supporting em too! however, like it was mentioned in a previous chapter (holy shit... still how crazy it is that this fic is written in real time) qatar got booted out of saudi's gulf club because they were so closely tied with iran, so now they cant be as supportive of kurdish independence as they were before**

 **Purim : A jewish holiday that commemorates the saving of the Jews from Haman, who was planning of slaughtering them all. This apparently took place in Achaemenid Era iran, and is told in the book of Esther, a section in the Jewish Holy text, Tanakh. It's time to feast, give gifts, reading from holy texts, and sometimes, getting fucking wasted**

 **Chaharshanbe Suri : On the eve of the last wednesday before nowruz, iranians light bonfires and jump over them, chanting "[let] your ruddiness [be] mine, my paleness yours," basically asking for good health**

 **The Kurds also celebrate nowruz (its spelt newroz for them) and its seen as a day to celebrate kurdish identity! yes that is deadass the founding myth they tell. They light bonfires and jump over them like chaharshanbe suri, but they do it the day before nowruz! there's really interesting stuff behind the history and Kurdish revival of the holiday but these footnotes have gone on for way too long and i can no longer feel my hands**

 **thumbs up= obscene gesture in the middle east, meaning "up yours" and roughly equivalent to the middle finger**

 **42:**

 **Shina = a japanese term for chinese that is considered by some mainland chinese offensive to varying degrees. In 2016, when a pro independence politician was elected to Hong Kong's legislative council, she referred to the PRC as the "People's Re-Fucking of Chee-na," launching a wave of controversy. As a result, she and a colleague were barred frm joining the legislature.**

 **Acha = slang commonly used among cantonese in Hong Kong used originally only for indians, but now used for south asians in general.**

 **dai beng= big cracker in cantonese, slang for a hong kong dollar coin, derived frm its shape**

 **indian taiwanese relations : while india may have stopped recognize the ROC, economic and commercial and people to people relations are quite positive! it's basically a mirror to china-pakistan- getting close to the estranged younger sibling to fuck off the older one**

 **44:** **ETHIOPIA AND SYRIA B** **OTH HAVE THEIR ISSUES WITH EGYPT... YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT EGYPT DID LAST CHAPTER TO SCREW OVER SYRIA IN HIS REBELLION, AND ETHIOPIA HAS SHOWN HIS DISLIKE OF EGYPT IN SUDAN'S CHAPTER BUT I'LL GO MORE IN DEPTH WITH THEIR RELATIONSHIP LATER**

 **KENYA AND RWANDA'S CHAPTER THREAD HAD TO BE TAKEN OUT BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT WAS WAY TOO BUSY WITH THE NOWRUZ PLOT THREAD SO DON'T WORRY THEY WILL RETURN!**

 **headcanon: india is ur typical brown parent and has like mile high expectations for pak and to this day when her gov asked her what she wanted her education to be, india's spirit arose and she decided on a medical degree along with a political science one**


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